f 


LIBRARY 

OP 
CAllfORNlA/ 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 


X 

ALINE    OF    THE 
GRAND    WOODS 


A   Story    of  Louisiana 


BY 

NEVIL  G.  HENSHAW 


NEW  YORK 

THE   OUTING   PUBLISHING   COMPANY 
MCMIX 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


All  Rights  Reserved 


LOAN  STACK 


PS  3* 


TO    THE    MEMORY    OF 

MY  FATHER 


739 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  ONE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     THE  MAIL  is  LATE  AT  LANDRY        „  *         .  •      5 

II     FATHER  MARTAIN  FORGIVES  A  SINNER  .        »  13 

III  How  THE  MAIL  CAME  TO  LANDRY  .  .  .22 

IV  MONSIEUR  LANDRY  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY           .  -33 
V    MR.  LAWRENCE  RECEIVES  A  LETTER   ..  .,      ,.  .     39 

VI     NUMA  ASKS  A  PRICE  FOR  SILENCE  .  ,  -47 

VII     MR.  LAWRENCE  SEES  His  MAN        .  v        *  -56 

VIII     A  FLAG  is  RAISED  AT  LANDRY       ,.  .         •  .69 

IX     FATHER  MARTAIN  MAKES  A  JOURNEY  .         ,  .80 

X    OLD  TELESSE  MAKES  A  PROMISE     .  ,        .  .     87 

XI     OLD  TELESSE  GOES  HOME       »        ,  .         «  -97 


BOOK  TWO 

I  BELRIVE         . 109 

II  SOME  BIRDS   .  123 

III  AND  A  BOTTLE       .         .         .         .         .         .         .   133 

IV  THE  GRAND  WOODS        .         .  '      .         .         .         .148 
V  ANGELE  OF  ANSE  LE  VERT     .         .         .       ...   158 

VI     TOM  BAYNE  OF  SUNNYSIDE 168 

VII     A  FAIRY  AND  A  GOBLIN          .         .         .        .         .   179 

VIII     AUNT  BETTY  DRIVES  OUT       .        .         .         .         .189 

IX    OLD  TELESSE  MAKES  A  WISH          .         .         .         .  205 

vii 


CONTENTS 


X  A  RAIN 215 

XI  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES     ...  .224 

XII  NUMA  MAKING  ONE  CONQUEST   FAILS  TO  MAKE 

ANOTHER 241 

XIII  AUNT  BETTY  DECIDES        ...  .258 

XIV  HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF 265 

XV  ALINE  MAKES  A  SACRIFICE 275 

XVI  OLD  TELESSE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF  .         .  288 

XVII  FATHER  BERTRAND  LOSES  His  TEMPER       .         .  300 

XVIII  MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER    .         .  309 

XIX  MONSIEUR  VARAIN  DOES  A  KINDNESS  .  322 

XX  ALINE  SAYS  Gooo-BY         .  •  34* 

XXI  LEBossu  MAKES  A  JOURNEY   TO   THE  CONVENT 

AT  MOUTON 35° 

XXII  NICHOLAS  WILSON  GIVES  A  WARNING  .  364 

XXIII  NUMA  SETTLES  AN  OLD  SCORE  .         .         .         .380 

XXIV  LE  SAUVAGE     ....  •  391 
XXV  ALINE  GIVES  HER  ANSWER        .                   .         .  413 

XXVI  MONSIEUR  VARAIN  PICKS  UP  His  DUCK  AT  LAST  .  425 

XXVII  OLD  TELESSE  SEEKS  A  RECKONING     .  .  436 

XXVIII  LE  Bossu  TELLS  His  STORY      .         .         .         -453 

XXIX  NUMA  PAYS  His  DEBTS 4^8 

XXX  CHRISTMAS  CHEER 479 


vill 


GLOSSARY 

Arpent,  a  measure  of  land,  used  in  Louisiana  in  place  of  the  acre. 
Banquette,  sidewalk. 
Bayou,  a  small  river. 

Cajun  (from  Acadian),  a  name  applied  to  certain  of  the  French 
people  of  Louisiana. 

Comment  ca  va?     How  are  you  going? 
Cotton ade,  a  cotton  cloth  made  by  the  Cajuns. 
Coulee,  a  pond. 

Graine  a  volee,  a  large  water  lily  closely  resembling  the  Egyptian 
Lotus. 

Lagniappe,  a  small   gift   (usually  of   candy)   given  with   each 
purchase. 

Pirogue,  a  canoe. 

Pistache  Sauvages,  a  wild  flower. 

Poule  d'eau,  a  black  water  fowl,  fishy  and  unpalatable  as  a  food. 

Tetrain,  slowly. 


BOOK    ONE 


Aline  of  the  Grand  Woods 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    MAIL    IS    LATE   AT   LANDRY 


FULL  in  the  glare  of  the  hot  June  sun  stood  the 
store  of  Monsieur  Etienne  Landry,  its  weather- 
beaten  sides  seeming  to  give  forth  smoke  in  the 
intense  heat. 

The  china  tree  in  front,  its  leaves  withered  and 
drooping,  bent  its  branches  earthward,  as  though  after 
a  long  struggle  with  heat  and  drought,  it  bowed  its 
head  to  the  inevitable.  Underneath  the  store  porch  a 
ragged  hound,  driven  there  for  shelter,  panted  des 
perately  with  lolling  tongue  and  bloodshot  eyes,  too 
hot  even  to  snap  at  the  myriad  of  flies  which  buzzed 
about  him. 

Within  the  store  it  was  cool  and  dark,  and  on  enter 
ing  one  was  greeted  by  an  odor,  mixed  indeed,  but  not 
unpleasant — an  odor  as  though  someone  had  mixed  a 
great  many  groceries  together,  and  had  then  stirred 
them  vigorously.  Two  long  counters  ran  down  the 
sides  of  the  store,  and  near  the  end  of  the  right-hand 

3 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

counter  was  a  little  place  enclosed  by  a  railing,  con 
taining  a  desk  and  some  chairs,  where  Monsieur  Lan- 
dry  kept  his  accounts,  and  which  was  the  sanctum  sanc 
torum  of  the  place.  When  Monsieur  Landry  invited 
any  one  to  sit  with  him  within  this  sacred  precinct  it 
signified  that  the  invited  one  was  worthy  of  the  honor. 

Within  this  railing  now  sat  Monsieur  Landry  and 
Father  Martain  at  a  little  table  playing  checkers. 

Monsieur  Landry  was  a  large  man,  stout  from  good 
living,  with  a  fat  red  face,  upon  which  nature  had  set 
the  perpetual  seal  of  good  humor.  There  was  also 
about  him  a  certain  air  of  dignity,  a  manner  as  of  one  in 
authority,  and  why  should  there  not  be,  for  was  he  not 
the  son  of  old  Adrien  Landry,  the  first  owner  of  the 
store,  and  the  founder  of  Landry?  And  also  was  he 
not  the  Postmaster,  with  an  ability  to  read,  and  write, 
and  speak  English,  not  excelled  by  anyone  from  the 
Grand  Woods  to  Mouton,  excepting,  of  course,  Father 
Martain?  Monsieur  Landry  was  very  proud  of  his 
English,  which  indeed  he  spoke  very  well,  and  when 
conversing  with  any  one  who  was  even  slightly 
acquainted  with  that  language,  he  never  uttered  a  word 
of  French. 

His  companion  at  the  little  table,  Father  Martain, 
was  so  unlike  him  in  appearance,  that  the  contrast  was 
startling.  Small  and  very  thin,  the  good  priest  beside 
the  great  bulk  of  Monsieur  Landry,  appeared  to  be  but 
the  shadow  of  a  man.  His  long  hair,  which  was  of  a 
yellowish  white,  hung  about  a  face  that  was  the  color 
of  old  parchment — the  nose,  long  and  thin,  accentuated 
its  sharpness.  The  mouth  with  its  thin  lips  would  have 

4 


THE    MAIL   IS   LATE    AT    LANDRY 

given  an  air  of  severity  to  the  face,  were  it  not  for  a 
little  line  at  each  corner,  faint  and  shadowy,  extending 
downward,  the  aftermark  of  a  smile.  And  what  a 
smile  it  was!  kind  and  sympathetic,  ready  at  all  times 
to  calm  the  troubles  of  those  who  went  to  the  good 
priest  for  comfort.  His  eyes  were  blue,  the  faint  blue 
of  the  robin's  egg.  Large  and  innocent  they  were,  and 
full  of  a  great  love  for  all  things,  with  a  look  of 
patient  resignation  in  them,  as  though  their  owner  had 
foregone  some  long-cherished  wish,  and  had  foregone 
it  cheerfully. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  rusty  black  cassock,  and  in  his 
lap  there  rested  a  black  hat,  with  a  low  crown  and  a 
very  wide  brim.  It  was  an  old  hat,  how  old,  nobody 
but  Father  Martain  knew,  gray  with  age,  the  felt 
cracked  in  many  places  from  long  usage. 

Some  of  the  members  of  his  congregation  had  sent 
to  New  Orleans  one  Christmas  for  a  new  cassock  and 
hat,  and  had  given  them  to  him,  with  all  of  the  cere 
mony  that  is  so  dear  to  French  people.  The  good 
priest  had  received  them  with  tears,  unable  in  his  agita 
tion  to  utter  a  word  of  the  thanks  that  filled  his  heart. 
He  had  worn  the  cassock  with  all  of  the  pride  of 
one  in  new  garments,  but  upon  his  head  he  still  wore  the 
old  hat  with  its  wide  brim. 

When  one  of  the  present  givers  remarked  upon  it, 
he  smiled  and  replied: 

"  The  new  hat,  my  son,  is  very  fine,  and  I  keep  it  for 
some  great  occasion,  but  this,  my  old  hat — Ah}  mon 
filsf  I  wore  that  in  Paris  ";  and  in  the  blue  eyes  there 
grew  for  a  moment  a  great  longing.  Only  for  a 

5 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

moment  was  it  there,  and  so  quickly  did  it  go,  and  so 
quickly  did  the  look  of  resignation  take  its  place,  that 
the  questioner  never  saw  it.  It  meant  a  life  of  longing 
and  self-suppression,  unknown  to  any  one  but  Father 
Martain  himself. 

And  so  these  two  sat  at  the  little  table  on  this 
hot  June  day,  playing  checkers,  as  they  had  done  every 
day  for  years,  and  on  the  generally  smiling  face  of 
Monsieur  Landry  there  was  a  look  of  worry  that  was 
wholly  foreign.  He  was  playing  carelessly,  and  had 
lost  four  games,  a  thing  that  had  never  happened 
before,  for  whether  it  was  that  Monsieur  Landry  was 
the  better  player,  or  whether  it  was  that  Father  Martain 
was  too  considerate  to  beat  him,  he  invariably  won. 

But  it  was  not  this  that  caused  the  troubled  look  on 
Monsieur  Landry's  face,  as  his  frequent  glances  at  the 
clock  on  his  desk  seemed  to  certify.  The  hands  of  this 
clock  were  rapidly  approaching  the  hour  of  three,  and 
the  mail,  which  should  have  been  brought  to  the  store 
at  twelve,  had  not  yet  arrived.  Every  morning,  pre 
cisely  at  seven  o'clock,  Monsieur  Landry's  eldest  son 
Adrien,  rode  over  to  Mouton  for  the  mail,  and  every 
day  at  twelve  o'clock  he  returned  with  it.  He  had  been 
late  before,  of  course,  sometimes  as  much  as  a  half 
hour,  but  three  hours !  such  a  thing  had  never  happened. 

Next  to  his  religion,  nothing  was  more  sacred  to 
Monsieur  Landry  than  the  mail.  The  little  box,  with  its 
glass  front  and  twenty  pigeonholes,  where  the  letters 
for  delivery  were  kept,  shone  with  a  radiance  that  was 
the  outcome  of  much  labor  on  his  part,  for  he  would 
allow  none  else  to  touch  it. 

6 


THE    MAIL   IS   LATE    AT   LANDRY 

When,  after  his  father's  death,  he  had  at  first  taken 
the  store,  Monsieur  Landry  had  not  been  so  particular. 
He  had  recognized  the  importance  that  his  office  as 
Postmaster  gave  him,  and  had  enjoyed  it  accordingly, 
but  the  dust  of  many  days  covered  the  glass  box,  and 
the  letters  were  often  left  scattered  upon  the  counter 
while  he  waited  upon  a  customer.  However,  there 
had  come  a  time,  when  a  letter  for  Colonel  Gordon  had 
been  mislaid,  and  could  not  be  found  for  several  days. 
The  Colonel  had  ridden  over,  and  in  language  more 
forcible  than  polite,  had  spoken  to  him  of  the  sacred 
character  and  importance  of  the  mail.  He  had  spoken 
also  of  people  who  were  in  prison  for  a  crime  less  than 
that  of  losing  a  letter.  Monsieur  Landry  had  never 
forgotten. 

And  so  the  mind  of  Monsieur  Landry  was  in  a  tumult 
at  this  delay  in  the  arrival  of  the  mail,  and  presently 
he  shoved  back  his  chair  from  the  table,  utterly  regard 
less  of  the  fact  that  it  was  his  move,  and  mopping  his 
face  with  a  large  bandanna  handkerchief,  sat  staring 
through  the  open  door  at  the  glaring  sunshine  outside. 

"It  is  no  use,"  said  he.  "  I  can  play  no  more. 
Already  the  mail  is  three  hours  late,  and  I  can  find 
no  reason  for  its  being  so.  Adrien  is  a  good  boy,  and 
he  would  not  stay  so  late  unless  there  is  something  the 
matter;  and  if  there  is  something  the  matter,  what 
is  it?" 

"  That,"  said  Father  Martain,  who  sat  smiling  with 
a  timid  superiority  over  his  recent  victory,  "  I  cannot 
say.  But  cheer  up,  my  friend !  Adrien  will  come,  and 
it  will  all  then  be  well." 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Monsieur  Landry  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  Maybe  so,  maybe  so,"  said  he,  "  but  let  us  now 
put  up  the  board,  for  I  cannot  play  longer,  and  if 
Adrien  does  not  soon  come,  I  must  get  my  horse  and 
ride  to  Mouton." 

While  speaking,  Monsieur  Landry  had  been  gather 
ing  up  the  checkers,  and  now  closing  the  board,  he 
placed  it  very  carefully  upon  the  desk,  and  turning  to 
the  priest,  who  had  also  risen,  he  said  with  the  air  of 
one  making  an  apology  long  delayed. 

"  I  am  sorry,  mon  Pere,  that  I  cannot  play  longer, 
but  you  must  understand  my  worry  over  this  matter. 
So  let  us  sit  here  and  wait  for  Adrien  to  come.  And 
we  can  talk  about  the  church  fair  that  we  will  have 
next  month."  This  last  was  added  as  though  in  atone 
ment  for  his  abrupt  termination  of  the  game. 

"Ah,  the  fair!"  said  the  priest.  "Now  that  will 
be  something  to  talk  of.  We  must  have  the  band  from 
Mouton,  and  perhaps  Auguste  will " 

But  what  Auguste  would  perhaps  have  done  was 
never  told,  for  at  that  moment  someone  who  had 
mounted  the  porch,  unheard  by  the  two  speakers, 
entered  the  store. 

Monsieur  Landry,  who  had  gone  forward  to  meet 
him,  now  saw  that  it  was  a  Mr.  Lawrence,  who  owned  a 
small  sugar  plantation  near  Landry.  Monsieur  Landry 
did  not  like  Mr.  Lawrence,  because  he  did  not  know 
anything  definite  about  him,  and  although  he  had  tried 
very  hard  to  find  out  something  of  his  antecedents,  he 
had  so  far  been  unsuccessful. 

He  knew  one  thing  about  him,  as  you  shall  pres- 

8 


THE    MAIL   IS   LATE    AT   LANDRY 

ently  see,  but  this  one  thing  only  caused  him  to  wish 
to  know  more. 

In  a  little  community,  such  as  Landry,  with  its  one 
store,  where  from  miles  around  people  come  to  supply 
their  simple  wants,  the  storekeeper  must  naturally  know 
a  great  deal  about  each  one  of  them.  For,  once  having 
made  their  purchases,  they  spend  many  an  hour  talking 
of  themselves,  their  crops  and  their  neighbors — talking 
unreservedly  as  such  simple  people  do. 

And  such  a  storekeeper  as  Monsieur  Landry,  with  his 
education  and  desire  for  learning  something  new,  must 
needs  learn  many  things  that  a  less  clever  man  would 
overlook.  If  a  child  were  born,  if  some  one  died,  if 
even  some  one  were  sick,  it  was  not  very  long  before 
Monsieur  Landry  knew  all  the  details  of  the  affair,  and 
even  more  than  all,  for  sometimes  he  added  a  little  on 
his  own  account. 

But  here  was  one  who  to  him  was  a  mystery,  and 
therefore,  Monsieur  Landry  did  not  like  him.  How 
ever,  he  did  not  allow  his  dislike  to  become  visible,  and 
addressing  Mr.  Lawrence  in  a  very  cordial  tone  he 
inquired  what  he  could  do  for  him. 

Mr.  Lawrence,  looking  past  him  to  the  priest, 
bowed,  and  then  turning  to  Monsieur  Landry  said: 

"  I  would  like  to  know  if  there  is  a  letter  for  me." 

In  the  mind  of  Monsieur  Landry  there  arose  a  great 
tumult.  Never  before  had  Mr.  Lawrence  asked  for  a 
letter.  A  few  letters  had  come  for  him,  it  was  true,  but 
all  of  them  had  been  business  letters,  and  most  of 
them  had  been  from  a  firm  of  lawyers  in  Mouton. 
Of  course  the  Postmaster  knew  that. 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Here  may  be  a  chance,"  thought  Monsieur  Landry, 
"  to  really  find  out  something  if  I  manage  things  prop 
erly,"  so  putting  on  an  air  of  polite  inquiry,  he  asked: 

"  Does  Monsieur  Lawrence  expect  a  letter?  " 

"  I  most  certainly  do,"  answered  Mr.  Lawrence, 
"  otherwise,  I  would  not  have  asked  for  one." 

An  inspiration  seized  Monsieur  Landry.  He  also  re 
membered  that  the  postmarks  were  often  blotted  and 
illegible. 

"  The  mail  is  late;  very  late,"  said  he.  "  I  do  not 
now  know  when  it  will  arrive,  but  if  you  will  let  me 
know  from  where  the  letter  will  come,  and  whether 
it  is  a  business  letter  or  not,  I  will  send  it  over  by 
Adrien  as  soon  as  it  comes.  That  is,  if  it  does  come," 
he  added  lamely. 

He  did  not  mention  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lawrence 
could  wait  at  the  store  until  the  mail  arrived. 

The  brow  of  Mr.  Lawrence  now  grew  dark. 

"  Mr.  Landry,"  said  he,  "  when  that  letter  of  mine 
arrives,  I  will  come  and  get  it,  or  I  will  send  my  col 
ored  boy  for  it;  and  I  would  like  to  say  that  if  it  is 
customary  for  persons  to  give  descriptions  of  their  let 
ters  at  this  postoffice,  before  they  get  them,  I  will  have 
mine  sent  to  Mouton.  It  is  rather  a  long  ride,  but  it 
would  save  answering  a  great  many  unnecessary  ques 


tions." 


Having  said  this,  he  bowed  again  very  politely  to 
the  priest,  and  walking  out  to  his  horse,  mounted  it 
and  rode  away. 

Now  this  outburst  was  rather  uncalled  for,  after  the 
polite  inquiry  and  kind  offer  of  Monsieur  Landry,  but 

10 


THE    MAIL   IS   LATE    AT    LANDRY 

only  an  hour  before,  old  Telesse,  Lawrence's  man  of 
all  work,  had  told  him  of  an  attempt,  coupled  with 
bribes  of  tobacco,  made  that  morning  to  learn  some 
thing  of  his  master's  life  and  habits,  and  the  heart  of 
Mr.  Lawrence  was  filled  with  anger  at  this  speech, 
inquisitive  in  the  extreme,  yet  veiled  in  a  cloak  of 
solicitous  inquiry.  He  knew  that  Monsieur  Landry  was 
trying  to  pry  into  his  affairs,  and  he  also  knew  that 
Monsieur  Landry  knew  that  he  was  aware  of  it. 

The  red  face  of  Monsieur  Landry  became  a  deep 
crimson,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  unable  to  express  the 
indignation  that  filled  him.  Walking  to  the  door,  he 
gazed  at  the  receding  figure  of  the  horseman,  as 
though  he  were  going  to  say  something  in  vindication  of 
himself,  but  the  horse  of  Mr.  Lawrence  had  now  car 
ried  its  owner  beyond  speaking  distance,  so  that,  had 
the  storekeeper  said  what  was  in  his  mind,  he  would 
have  been  obliged  to  shout,  and  he  did  not  care  to 
shout  about  an  affair  of  this  kind.  So  he  turned  slowly 
toward  the  priest,  who  instantly  removed  from  his 
countenance  the  smile  of  amusement,  which  had  been 
broadening  during  every  moment  of  the  conversation 
between  the  two  men. 

He  knew  well  the  curiosity  of  Monsieur  Landry,  and 
he  had  enjoyed  the  discomfiture  of  that  gentleman 
immensely,  especially  as  he  considered  curiosity  a  very 
undesirable  trait. 

Monsieur  Landry  now  forgot  his  English,  and  laps 
ing  into  his  mother  tongue,  as  one  is  apt  to  do  in 
moments  of  great  excitement,  exclaimed,  "  Canaille!  " 

The  good  priest  shook  his  head  sadly. 

1 1 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  You  must  not  say  that,"  he  remonstrated.  u  It  is 
not  right  my  friend.  He  spoke  rudely,  it  is  true,  but 
one  must  overlook  such  things  as  a  quick  temper  and  a 
sharp  tongue.  Calm  yourself,  and  remember  that  it 
does  no  good  to  call  people  names." 

Monsieur  Landry  said  never  a  word  to  this,  but  seat 
ing  himself,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  paper  and  tobacco, 
rolled  himself  a  cigarette,  and  lighting  it,  sat  for 
a  while  inhaling  the  smoke  and  blowing  it  forth  in 
great  volumes. 

Gradually  the  deep  crimson  began  to  fade  from  his 
face,  his  eyes  lost  their  sparkling  anger,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  countenance  of  the  storekeeper  assumed 
its  usual  genial  expression. 

Father  Martain  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 

"  That  is  right,  my  friend,"  said  he.  "  It  is  not 
worth  being  angry  about." 

Monsieur  Landry  smiled  magnanimously. 

"  No,  mon  Pere,  it  is  not,"  he  replied,  all  feeling 
of  rancor  seeming  to  have  disappeared:  but  Lawrence, 
riding  home  in  the  hot  sunlight,  knew  that  he  had 
doubled  the  storekeeper's  curiosity,  and  what  is  more, 
Monsieur  Landry  knew  it  also. 


12 


CHAPTER    II 

FATHER   MARTAIN    FORGIVES    A    SINNER 

MONSIEUR  LANDRY,  having  recovered 
from  his  anger,  returned  to  his  first  griev 
ance,  the  lateness  of  the  mail.  Bidding 
Father  Martain  excuse  him  for  a  moment,  he  went 
to  the  open  door  and  gazed  far  down  the  hot,  dusty 
road  that  led  to  Mouton. 

But  his  search  was  rewarded  with  nothing  more 
than  the  sight  of  a  battered  wagon,  which,  moving 
slowly  through  the  heavy  dust  clouds,  finally  pulled  up 
at  the  store. 

In  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  there  lay  a  man 
stretched  out  at  full  length,  one  arm  hanging  help 
lessly  over  the  side,  the  other  doubled  under  him.  He 
was  lying  on  his  back,  full  in  the  glare  of  the  sun,  a 
hat  over  his  face,  and  in  the  crook  of  the  arm  that 
dangled  over  the  side  of  the  wagon  there  was  a  large 
demijohn,  which  spoke  eloquently  of  his  condition.  On 
the  seat  in  front  there  sat  a  boy,  who,  throwing  the 
rope  reins  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  jumped  out  and 
entered  the  store. 

Monsieur  Landry,  addressing  him  in  French,  asked 
him  what  he  wanted. 

"  Tobacco,"  answered  the  boy  in  the  same  language; 
"  four  packs." 

'3 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

He  might  have  been  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age, 
and  as  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  door,  Monsieur 
Landry  saw  that  he  was  a  very  handsome  boy,  tall 
and  lithe  and  very  graceful,  with  black  hair  and  eyes, 
a  long  straight  nose,  and  a  very  red,  full  mouth.  His 
hands  and  bare  legs  were  burned  red  by  the  sun,  but 
his  arms  and  chest  (which  one  could  see  through  his 
torn  shirt)  were  an  olive-brown — the  brown  of  the 
Spaniard. 

Having  made  up  the  packages  of  tobacco  into  a  small 
bundle,  the  storekeeper,  who  was  curious  to  know  more 
of  this  boy,  now  took  from  a  glass  jar  a  large  stick  of 
peppermint  candy,  and  handing  it  to  him  with  the 
tobacco,  said: 

"  There  is  your  lagnlappe.  Won't  you  come  in  here 
and  eat  it  where  it  is  cool?  Your  horse  will  also  get  a 
rest,  and  will  be  fresh  again  when  you  are  ready 
to  go." 

The  boy  eyed  the  stick  of  candy  scornfully. 

"  Candy  is  for  children,"  said  he.  "  I  want  chew 
ing  tobacco  for  my  lagriiappc." 

Monsieur  Landry's  eyebrows  went  up  in  surprise. 

"  Very  well,"  said  he;  "  come  in  and  sit  down,  and 
I  will  get  it  for  you." 

Taking  the  candy,  he  put  it  back  in  the  jar,  and 
brought  the  boy  a  square  piece  of  tobacco.  The 
tobacco  was  worth  five  cents,  the  candy  one,  but  the 
curiosity  of  the  storekeeper  was  aroused. 

Seated  upon  the  counter,  and  swinging  his  bare  legs 
vigorously,  the  boy  bit  off  a  large  piece  of  the  tobacco, 
and  chewing  it  for  a  moment  spat  viciously  at  a  fly  upon 

14 


FATHER    MARTAIN    FORGIVES   A    SINNER 

the  floor,  his  face  beaming  with  contentment,  appar 
ently  oblivious  of  the  man  in  the  scorching  heat  outside. 

But  Monsieur  Landry  was  not  so  forgetful. 

"  The  man  outside  in  the  wagon,"  said  he.  "  The 
sun  will  kill  him." 

The  boy  smiled. 

"  He  is  used  to  it,"  he  replied;  "besides  I  put  his 
hat  over  his  face.  He  has  lain  all  day  in  the  sun  before, 
and  it  won't  hurt  him  now." 

Monsieur  Landry  now  thought  it  time  to  ask  a  few 
questions. 

"  Who  is  the  man  in  the  wagon?  "  he  inquired. 

"  He  is  my  father,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  And  your  name  is — ?  "  began  the  storekeeper. 

"  Numa,"  answered  the  boy.     "  Numa  Le  Blanc." 

"  A  very  pretty  name,"  said  Monsieur  Landry,  "  al 
though,"  looking  at  the  boy's  brown  skin,  "  it  is  not 
very  appropriate.  Numa,"  he  repeated  thoughtfully; 
"  that  is  Spanish." 

"  My  mother  was  Spanish;  she  is  dead,"  said  the 
boy  laconically. 

"That  is  sad,"  the  priest  here  remarked;  "  for  your 
father  does  not  seem  to  be  a  good  man." 

The  boy's  face  flushed,  and  he  raised  his  head 
proudly. 

"My  father  is  not  a  bad  man  when  he  is  not  drunk," 
said  he.  "He  treats  me  well,  and  lets  me  hunt  with 
his  gun.  I  do  not  blame  him  for  getting  drunk,  either, 
for  the  doctor  has  told  him  that  he  must  die  very  soon, 
and  he  drinks  to  keep  from  suffering.  Perhaps,  if  you 
suffered  as  he  does,  you  might  want  to  drink,  too,  mon 

15 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Pere>  and  forget  the  pain.  We  live  in  the  Grand 
Woods,"  he  continued,  "  and  it  is  very  lonesome  there 
at  night.  When  my  father  groans  from  his  pain,  it  is 
terrible.  Often  I  have  ridden  in  the  night  to  get  him 
a  drink  and  the  little  powders  that  he  takes  to  make 
him  sleep.  When  the  pain  is  very  great,  he  sometimes 
strikes  me,  but  I  do  not  mind  it,  for  when  he  is  better, 
he  is  sorry.  See,  here  is  where  he  struck  me  last  night." 

He  rolled  back  his  torn  sleeve  as  he  spoke. 

The  good  priest  gave  a  little  gasp  of  horror,  as  he 
saw  a  ragged  cut,  reaching  from  shoulder  to  elbow. 
Monsieur  Landry's  heart  was  touched.  His  sympathy 
was  at  once  aroused. 

"  Let  me  bind  it  up  for  you,  and  put  some  salve  upon 
it,"  said  he,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  went 
behind  the  counter,  presently  reappearing  with  a  piece 
of  cloth  and  a  large,  tin  box  of  salve. 

"  How  did  it  happen?  "  he  asked,  rubbing  some  of 
the  salve  upon  the  cut,  with  a  touch  as  tender  as  a 
woman's. 

"  He  struck  me  with  a  plank;  there  was  a  nail  in  it," 
said  the  boy,  flinching  a  little  as  Monsieur  Landry  began 
to  wind  the  bandage  tightly  around  his  arm. 

The  storekeeper  now  thought  it  time  to  ask  another 
question. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  inquired,  tying  the 
bandage  deftly,  and  pulling  down  the  sleeve  again. 

"  To  Mr.  Lawrence's  place,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Your  father  knows  Monsieur  Lawrence,  eh?"  asked 
the  storekeeper,  with  a  gleam  of  hope  that  he  might 
learn  something  of  the  latter  gentleman. 

16 


FATHER   MARTAIN   FORGIVES   A   SINNER 

"  No,"  answered  the  boy;  "  he  went  to  see  old  man 
Telesse.  My  father  lives  at  his  house  in  the  Grand 
Woods.  He  is  keeping  it  for  him  while  he  works  for 
Mr.  Lawrence.  He  gives  my  father  money  when  he 
goes  to  see  him;  I  do  not  know  why,  and  he " 

The  boy  paused,  for  at  this  moment  there  arose 
from  the  outside  a  most  horrible  uproar,  and  those  in 
the  store,  turning  to  see  the  cause,  beheld  a  strange 
sight. 

The  man  in  the  wagon  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  was 
making  the  most  violent  attempt  to  reach  the  ground. 
Suddenly,  by  a  great  effort,  he  threw  himself  from  the 
wagon,  and  falling  heavily  to  the  ground,  raised  such 
a  cloud  of  dust,  that  for  a  moment  both  man  and 
wagon  became  invisible  to  those  in  the  store. 

The  two  men,  closely  followed  by  the  boy,  now 
started  forward  to  help  the  unfortunate  one,  when  from 
the  dust  there  emerged  a  horrible  figure,  which  made 
directly  for  them,  uttering  such  terrible  curses,  that 
Father  Martain  placed  his  fingers  in  his  ears  and 
shrank  behind  the  huge  form  of  the  storekeeper.  The 
boy  also  shrank  behind  Monsieur  Landry,  who  being 
thus,  as  it  were,  left  alone  to  face  the  enemy,  seized  a 
hatchet  that  lay  upon  the  counter,  and  bade  the  infuri 
ated  man  to  keep  his  distance. 

"  Numa !  "  shrieked  the  man,  with  a  volley  of  oaths. 
"  I  will  kill  him  this  time.  In  the  store  talking,  was  he? 
He  will  talk  no  more  when  I  am  through  with  him." 

This  speech,  plentifully  interlarded  with  oaths,  was 
delivered  in  the  French  of  the  Acadian,  or  Cajun,  as 
the  people  of  Evangeline  are  more  generally  known  in 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Louisiana.  After  this  outburst,  the  angry  father 
stood  panting  for  breath,  and  swaying  unsteadily,  as 
though  he  had  used  up  his  little  store  of  strength  in 
his  endeavor  to  reach  the  trembling  boy,  who  shrank 
closer  to  the  storekeeper  at  every  word. 

As  he  stood  making  desperate  efforts  to  reach  his  son, 
yet  ever  watchful  of  the  hatchet  in  the  hands  of  Mon 
sieur  Landry,  this  drunken  man  seemed  the  very  incar 
nation  of  anger.  His  hair,  long  and  matted,  filled  with 
dust  and  dirt  from  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  fell  about  a 
face  that  was  wasted  and  worn  by  disease  and  dissipa 
tion.  His  mouth,  the  lips  curled  back  in  a  savage 
snarl,  displayed  an  array  of  yellow,  uneven  teeth,  and 
between  his  ragged  locks  shone  a  pair  of  eyes  gleaming 
with  rage — the  eyes  of  a  wild  beast. 

Suddenly  he  made  a  savage  spring  forward,  regard 
less  of  the  hatchet,  and  in  a  moment  the  storekeeper 
would  have  been  obliged  to  defend  himself,  but  at  this 
movement,  Father  Martain,  coming  from  behind  him, 
advanced  upon  the  infuriated  man,  his  arm  out 
stretched. 

"Peace,  my  son,"  said  he.  "  The  boy  has  done  no 
wrong." 

Instantly,  over  this  cursing,  furious  man,  there  came 
a  great  change.  His  face  composed  itself,  his  eyes 
lost  their  savage  glare,  and  in  a  moment  there  stood 
before  the  priest,  a  cringing,  docile  creature,  his  whole 
attitude  speaking  of  submission  and  repentance. 

"  I  am  sorry,  mon  Pere,"  he  faltered.  "  I  did  not 
see  you.  It  is  the  drink  that  makes  me  crazy.  For 
give  me,  mon  Pere,  for  I  am  sorry." 

18 


FATHER    MARTAIN    FORGIVES   A    SINNER 

For  a  moment  the  good  priest  gazed  upon  this 
strange  apparition  sorrowfully,  and  then  laid  his  hands 
upon  the  matted  locks. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son,"  he  said,  "  you  have 
suffered  much,  and  I  forgive  you.  Go  in  peace,  and 
spare  the  boy,  for  he  loves  you  as  a  son  should  love  a 
father." 

The  man  turned  to  his  son  weakly. 

"  Come,"  said  he;  "  it  is  late,  and  the  woods  are  far 
away." 

The  boy  coming  forth,  placed  his  arm  about  his 
father,  who  now  seemed  utterly  exhausted,  and  thus 
supporting  him,  passed  slowly  out  to  the  wagon  and 
drove  away. 

For  several  moments  the  priest  and  Monsieur  Lan- 
dry  stood  looking  after  the  wagon  as  it  rattled  away, 
Monsieur  Landry  still  holding  the  hatchet,  which  he 
had  forgotten  in  his  excitement.  He  now  placed  it  upon 
the  counter,  and  turning  to  the  priest  said: 

"  You  were  just  in  time,  mon  Pere.  Had  you  been 
a  moment  later,  I  should  have  obliged  to  do  him  an 
injury.  It  is  strange  how  quickly  he  became  calm  when 
you  spoke  to  him." 

The  priest  smiled,  as  if  in  appreciation  of  a  Divine 
favor  done  for  him. 

"  He  has  forgotten  all  but  his  religion,"  said  he. 
"  When  he  loses  that,  there  will  be  nothing  left.  I 
must  try  and  see  him  for  the  boy's  sake,  as  well  as  for 
his  own." 

The  storekeeper  said  nothing  to  this,  and  resuming 
his  chair,  sat  for  a  while  in  silence,  his  mind  going 

19 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

rapidly  over  the  past  events,  until  it  came  to  the  boy's 
telling  of  his  visit  to  Mr.  Lawrence's  plantation,  and 
there  it  stopped. 

As  if  speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  the  priest, 
he  said: 

"Again  that  Monsieur  Lawrence,  about  whom  no  one 
knows  anything,  and  yet  I  will  know  something  of  him 
before  very  long,  even  though  I  am  obliged  to  go  to 
his  house  to  find  it  out.  He  has  no  right  to  be  so 
mysterious,  mon  Pere"  continued  he,  now  speaking 
directly  to  the  priest.  "  It  does  not  look  well.  Per 
haps  he  has  committed  some  crime,  and  is  in  hiding. 
If  that  is  the  case,  we  should  know  about  it." 

"  If  the  man  does  not  wish  to  speak  of  himself," 
replied  the  priest  slowly,  "  it  is  his  privilege  not  to  do 
so,  and  you  should  not  say  that  he  has  possibly  com 
mitted  some  crime.  You  have  no  reason  for  thinking 
so,  and  you  should  not  judge  others  harshly." 

"  But  I  have  reasons  for  thinking  so !  "  said  the  store 
keeper  vehemently.  "  Does  not  his  coming  here  as  he 
did  look  strange?  As  for  myself,  had  I  come  to  a 
place  in  such  a  manner,  I  should  have  given  my  reasons 
for  doing  so,  you  may  be  sure.  Did  he  not  come  to  my 
store  the  night  of  the  great  storm  three  years  ago, 
bringing  with  him  a  little  child,  and  asking  for  shelter? 
And  after  I  had  taken  him  in,  and  fed  him,  would 
he  answer  the  few  simple  questions  that  I  asked  him? 
No,  mon  Pere,  he  would  not.  He  told  me  that  he 
had  bought  my  old  place  near  here  from  Monsieur 
Parker  of  New  Orleans,  that  he  had  missed  it  in  the 
storm  and  darkness,  and  that  he  would  go  to  it  in  the 

20 


FATHER   MARTAIN    FORGIVES   A    SINNER 

morning.  This  he  told  me,  and  no  more.  To  my  wife 
he  said  that  the  child  was  a  girl,  and  that  her  name 
was  Aline.  C'est  tout. 

"  And  think  of  the  way  he  looked,  mon  Pere.  His 
face  was  white  and  drawn,  and  his  eye — his  eyes,  mon 
Pere,  were  like  those  of  the  souls  in  torment.  When 
he  spoke,  which  was  not  often,  his  voice,  I  assure  you, 
trembled  as  with  some  great  emotion. 

"  It  is  true  that  he  may  have  been  tired  from  his 
journey,  as  he  looked  better  the  next  morning,  but  he 
spoke  then  even  less  than  he  had  spoken  the  night 
before.  In  the  store  we  met  old  Telesse,  who  was  in 
from  the  Grand  Woods.  There  were  no  fish  in  the 
bayou,  he  said.  His  back  was  so  bad  that  he  could 
no  longer  cut  down  trees.  What  was  he  to  do  to  make 
a  living?  This  Lawrence  engaged  him  to  work  at  his 
place,  put  him  in  his  buggy  with  the  child,  and  thank 
ing  me,  drove  away. 

"  And  this,  mon  Pere,  is  how  he  came  to  Landry. 
Unknown  he  came,  and  unknown  he  has  lived  here  for 
three  years.  I  know  no  more  of  him  at  this  moment 
than  I  did  the  morning  that  he  drove  away  with  old 
Telesse.  What  is  more,  I  know  of  no  one  in  Landry 
who  knows  as  much  of  him  as  I  do,  and  after  my 
being  so  kind  to  him  that  stormy  night,  he  speaks  to  me 
harshly  just  now.  Do  you  blame  me  for  saying  of 
him  what  I  did?  What  do  you  think,  mon  Pere?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Father  Martain,  who  for  the  last 
few  minutes  had  been  gazing  through  the  open  door, 
"  I  think  that  I  see  your  son  Adrien  coming  with  the 
mail." 

21 


CHAPTER    III 

HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME   TO    LANDRY 

A  this  answer  to  his  question  Monsieur  Landry 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  such  haste  that  he  over 
turned  his  chair,  and  not  waiting  to  set  it  upon 
its  feet  again,  he  rushed  out  upon  the  porch. 

Far  down  the  road,  at  a  point  where  it  turned  to  the 
left,  he  saw  a  gathering  cloud  of  dust;  and  as  he  gazed 
it  continued  to  assume  greater  proportions.  The  per 
son  was  undoubtedly  approaching  at  a  great  speed. 

Father  Martain,  who  had  righted  the  overturned 
chair,  now  joined  the  storekeeper,  who,  taking  from  his 
pocket  a  large  silver  watch,  gazed  at  it  thoughtfully 
for  a  moment. 

"  Five  o'clock,"  said  he.  "  The  mail  is  indeed  late, 
but  we  shall  soon  know,  that  is  if  it  is  Adrien  com 
ing—"  And  then,  "  It  is  Adrien!  "  he  shouted.  "  I 
can  see  the  horse !  " 

The  cloud  of  dust  had  by  this  time  approached  very 
near,  and  in  its  midst  the  watchers  were  now  able  to 
see  plainly  a  small  creole  pony,  which  was  being  urged 
to  its  utmost  speed  by  a  boy,  who  was  lashing  it  unmer 
cifully  with  a  long  switch. 

The  storekeeper  turned  excitedly  to  Father  Martain. 

22 


HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME    TO    LANDRY 

"Whipping  a  horse  in  this  heat!"  he  cried. 
"  Adrien  will  kill  him.  If  he  does,  I  shall  whip  him 
worse  than  he  has  whipped  the  horse." 

"  It  is  cruel,"  said  the  priest.  "  He  should  not  do  it 
with  all  this  heat  and  dust." 

He  would  have  said  more  on  the  subject  of  cruelty, 
but  at  this  moment  Adrien  had  come  within  hailing 
distance,  and  Monsieur  Landry  yelled  at  him  angrily  in 
French : 

"  Do  not  beat  that  horse!  "  he  called.  "  Do  you 
want  to  kill  him?  " 

But  the  boy  paid  no  attention  to  his  command,  and 
continued  lashing  the  horse  savagely,  until  he  dashed 
madly  up  to  the  porch.  Without  waiting  to  bring  the 
animal  to  a  full  stop,  Adrien  slipped  from  the  saddle, 
and  rushing  up  the  steps  to  his  father,  clasped  him 
convulsively  around  the  knees,  sobbing  loudly  in  a  per 
fect  frenzy  of  terror. 

Monsieur  Landry  placed  his  arm  tenderly  about  his 
trembling,  sobbing  son,  and  patted  him  affectionately 
upon  the  head. 

"  What  is  it,  my  boy?  "  he  asked.  "  Come,  do  not 
be  afraid;  you  are  at  home  now.  And  the  mail,  my  son, 
we  must  get  that,  and  then  you  must  tell  me  your 
trouble." 

Gently  releasing  the  boy's  hold,  the  storekeeper 
stepped  down  to  the  horse,  who  stood  where  the  boy 
had  left  him,  blowing  loudly,  his  brown  coat  covered 
with  a  lather  of  sweat  and  dirt.  Behind  the  saddle, 
and  fastened  to  it  with  strips  of  rawhide,  was  the 
cause  of  Monsieur  Landry's  anxiety  for  the  past  four 

23 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

hours — the  mail  bag,  its  brown  leather  sides  white  with 
dust.  Mons.  Landry  carefully  unfastened  it,  tucked  it 
under  his  arm,  and  then  leading  the  horse  over  to  the 
rack,  he  hurried  back  to  the  porch,  where  Father  Mar- 
tain  had  almost  succeeded  in  calming  the  terrors  of  the 
excited  Adrien. 

It  was  now  getting  late  in  the  day  and  the  sun  did  not 
shine  so  fiercely  upon  the  porch,  therefore  Monsieur 
Landry  motioned  the  priest  to  one  of  the  chairs  that 
stood  there.  Taking  the  seat  nearest  himself,  and, 
drawing  Adrien  to  his  side,  he  asked  for  the  reason  of 
his  fright. 

The  boy,  on  being  questioned  by  his  father,  began 
with  an  outburst  in  French,  almost  incoherent,  and 
punctuated  with  sobs. 

"  He  shot  at  me!  "  he  cried  wildly.  "  Yes,  he  shot 
at  me,  and  the  bullet  it  came  so  close.  He  hit  the  mail 
bag,  and  if  he  had  hit  me  I  should  now  be  dead — dead 
like  Armand,  when  he  fell  in  the  bayou." 

"  Wait,  my  son,"  interposed  Monsieur  Landry. 
"  Calm  yourself,  and  tell  us  all  about  it  from  the  begin 
ning,  so  that  we  shall  know  just  what  has  happened. 
You  say  that  the  bullet  struck  the  mail  bag?  Let  us 


see." 


Reaching  down  to  where  he  had  placed  it,  by  the 
side  of  his  chair,  Monsieur  Landry  picked  up  the  mail 
bag  and  examined  it  intently.  On  the  side  which  had 
been  on  top  of  the  saddle,  there  was  a  long  groove 
cut  in  the  leather,  as  cleanly  as  though  one  had  done 
it  with  a  knife.  The  edges  of  this  cut  were  the  reddish 
brown  of  new  leather,  in  marked  contrast  to  the  deep 

24 


HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME    TO    LANDRY 

brown  of  the  rest  of  the  bag,  and  through  these  edges 
the  storekeeper  saw  the  back  of  a  letter,  its  top  fur 
rowed  by  the  same  bullet  that  had  made  the  groove 
in  the  bag's  side. 

Father  Martain,  who  had  also  been  examining  the 
bag,  his  face  alive  with  interest  and  curiosity,  now  ex 
claimed  excitedly: 

"  This  is  serious,  my  friend.  Tell  us  quickly,  Adrien ! 
There  is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of  now;  you  are  safe 
at  home." 

"  Yes,  go  on  and  tell  us,  Adrien !  "  cried  Monsieur 
Landry,  who  by  this  time  was  also  wild  with  curiosity 
and  excitement.  "  Stop  your  crying  instantly,  or  I  shall 
give  you  something  to  cry  for.  Begin  at  the  beginning 
and  tell  me  all  about  it,  leaving  out  nothing,  for  some 
one  has  tampered  with  the  mail,  and  that  is  a  very 
serious  thing,  I  can  tell  you." 

Thus  adjured,  Adrien  ceased  his  sobbing,  and  in  a 
high  nasal  voice  began  the  story  of  his  difficulties. 

"  You  know,  mon  pere"  said  he,  "  that  every  day 
when  I  ride  over  for  the  mail  to  Mouton,  I  go  as 
quickly  as  I  can,  and  I  only  wait  long  enough  to  get 
the  letters  before  I  come  back  again.  I  do  not  go 
into  the  town  by  the  public  road,  for  there  is  a  foot 
path  about  half  a  mile  outside  that  leads  directly  to 
the  post  office,  and  I  always  go  that  way. 

'  To-day,  when  I  had  ridden  on  this  footpath  for  a 
little  ways,  a  man  in  the  road,  not  far  off,  yelled  at  me. 
This  man  had  a  gun,  and  I  thought  that  he  was  hunt 
ing,  although  there  is  nothing  to  hunt  just  now.  I  was 
riding  very  fast  when  he  yelled  at  me,  and  so  I  did  not 

25 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

stop  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  but  yelled  back  at  him 
that  I  was  in  a  hurry,  and  rode  on  into  Mouton. 

"  When  I  came  to  the  post  office  Monsieur  Brous- 
sard,  the  postmaster,  gave  me  the  letters,  and  I  put  them 
in  my  bag.  When  I  started  to  go  out  he  came  to  the 
door  with  me,  and  asked  me  who  was  going  to  take 
the  mail  to  Landry. 

"  '  I  am,'  I  told  him. 

"  '  But  you  cannot,'  he  said. 

"  I  asked  him  why. 

"  '  There  is  yellow  fever  at  Mouton,  six  cases,'  said 
he.  '  You  must  know  of  it ;  the  guard  must  have  told 
you.' 

u  I  told  him  about  the  footpath,  and  about  the  man 
with  the  gun,  whom  I  thought  was  out  hunting. 

"  '  That  was  the  guard,'  he  said,  and  I  should  have 
ridden  up  to  him,  and  told  him  about  the  mail.  He 
would  have  sent  in  for  it,  and  given  it  to  me,  so  that 
I  could  have  gotten  the  mail  without  going  into  the 
town.  Now  that  I  had  come  into  the  town,  I  could 
not  go  out  again. 

"  *  But  the  guard  was  not  there  yesterday  morning,' 
I  said;  '  and  why  is  it  that  we  have  not  heard  of  the 
fever  from  people  who  have  stopped  at  the  store  on 
their  way  from  Mouton  ?  ' 

"  *  The  guards  only  came  on  last  night,'  he  told  me. 
The  people  at  Mouton  did  not  say  anything  about  the 
fever,  because  they  were  afraid  of  being  quarantined. 
The  planters  about  the  town  found  out  about  the  fever 
last  night,  and  they  put  guards  on  every  road,  so  that 
those  in  the  town  could  not  come  out.  People  could 

26 


HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME    TO    LANDRY 

come  in,  but  the  guards  would  tell  them  of  the  fever, 
and  when  they  were  once  in,  they  could  not  go  out 
again. 

"  *  But  the  mail?'  I  asked;  '  surely  the  mail  can 
go  out  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,'  said  Monsieur  Broussard,  *  the  mail  could  go 
out,  if  some  one  from  Landry  were  to  come  as  far  as 
the  guard  and  get  it.'  I  had  better  wait  until  the  next 
day  about  the  mail,  when  some  one  coming  from  Lan 
dry  to  look  for  me,  could  bring  it  back.  As  for  myself, 
he  did  not  know  when  I  would  be  able  to  leave. 

"  Then  Monsieur  Broussard  went  into  the  post  office, 
and  left  me. 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  but  I  took  the  mail  bag 
and  tied  it  on  my  saddle.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
would  leave  Mouton  that  day.  I  did  not  know  how  I 
was  going  to  do  it,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was 
going  to  leave,  and  I  was  very  much  frightened.  Do 
you  blame  me,  mon  pere?  " 

The  boy  paused  for  breath. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Monsieur  Landry,  who  looked  very 
grave  at  the  mention  of  the  yellow  fever. 

Father  Martain  looked  very  grave,  also,  and  in  his 
interest  for  what  was  to  follow,  he  paid  no  attention  to 
Monsieur  Landry,  who  was  about  to  speak  to  his  son. 

Seizing  Adrien  by  the  shoulder,  he  cried:  "  Go  on, 
Adrien!" 

Monsieur  Landry,  in  his  excitement,  did  not  notice 
this  little  piece  of  pardonable  rudeness,  and  forgetting 
what  he  had  to  say,  seized  the  boy's  other  shoulder  and 
demanded  the  rest  of  the  story. 

27 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Do  not  shake  me  so,"  said  Adrien;  and  then  he 
continued : 

"  I  tied  my  horse  to  a  tree,  and  sat  down  for  quite 
a  long  while,  thinking  of  how  I  should  get  away  from 
Mouton.  After  a  while  I  got  on  my  horse  and  rode 
out  to  the  guard.  I  told  him  that  I  had  the  mail,  but 
he  would  not  let  me  pass.  He  wanted  to  take  the 
letters,  and  give  them  to  some  one  who  would  try  to 
get  into  the  town,  but  I  would  not  let  him  have  them, 
for  you  have  told  me,  mon  pere,  that  I  must  never 
let  anyone  touch  the  mail.  So  I  rode  back  into  the 
town  again,  and  sat  down  under  a  tree. 

"  This  time  I  sat  for  a  long  while,  and  it  was  late 
in  the  evening  when  I  saw  a  woman  walking  along  the 
street  crying.  When  she  saw  me,  she  asked  me  if  I 
would  help  her,  for  she  was  in  trouble.  I  felt  so  sorry 
for  her  that  I  said  that  I  would,  and  I  rode  to  her 
house,  tied  my  horse,  and  went  inside. 

We  walked  down  the  hall  until  we  came  to  a  door, 
and  the  woman,  pushing  it  open,  told  me  to  enter. 
When  I  first  went  in  I  could  not  see  very  well,  because 
the  shades  in  the  room  were  pulled  down,  but  after 
a  moment  I  saw  a  large  bed,  and  on  that  bed  I  saw — 
Oh!  mon  pere — I  saw " 

Here  the  boy,  trembling  and  shaking  as  with  an 
ague,  fell  upon  his  knees,  burying  his  face  in  his 
father's  lap,  his  hands  tightly  pressed  over  his  eyes, 
as  though  to  shut  out  some  terrible  sight. 

Monsieur  Landry  stroked  his  head  tenderly. 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  son,"  said  he,  "  and  tell  us  what 
you  saw." 

28 


HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME    TO    LANDRY 

Slowly  the  boy  raised  his  head,  his  eyes  wide  with  the 
terror  of  what  he  had  seen,  and  without  rising  from  his 
kneeling  posture,  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"  I  saw  on  the  bed,  mon  pere,  a  man — a  dead  man ! 
He  was  lying  with  nothing  on  him  but  his  nightshirt, 
which  was  almost  torn  off  his  body,  and  his  face  was 
the  most  terrible  thing  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was. 
all  bony  and  yellow — but  I  cannot  tell  you  what  it 
looked  like,  mon  pere.  It  was  too  horrible. 

"  The  woman  seemed  to  be  almost  crazy,  because  of 
grief,  I  suppose. 

u  '  There  he  is,'  said  she;  'my  husband — dead. 
There  he  lies  dead,  I  say,  and  none  will  come  near  him. 
No  one  will  help  me,  and  why?  Is  this  yellow  fever 
then  so  bad,  that  a  poor  weak  woman  is  left  alone  in 
her  trouble?  Other  men  die  and  there  is  mourning. 
People  come  to  help  the  wife,  while  I  am  left  alone 
with  my  dead.  But  you  must  help  me.  Together  we 
will  dress  him  in  his  black  clothes,  that  he  may  not 
look  so  dreadful  as  he  does  now.  You  will  help  me, 
will  you  not,  my  boy  ?  ' 

"  While  this  woman  was  speaking,  I  was  so  scared 
of  her,  because  she  spoke  so  wildly,  and  at  the  dead 
man  on  the  bed,  that  I  could  not  speak  or  move;  but 
when  she  had  finished,  I  rushed  out  of  that  room  and 
out  of  that  house,  and  jumping  on  my  horse  I  struck 
him  with  my  whip,  letting  him  go  where  he  wanted  to. 

"  He  started  off  as  fast  as  he  could  go,  and  presently 
he  came  to  the  footpath  and  went  out  upon  it,  for  I 
always  come  home  that  way.  I  was  so  scared  that  I 
hardly  noticed  where  he  was  going,  and  I  kept  on  whip- 

29 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

ping  him  as  hard  as  I  could.  All  of  a  sudden,  when  I 
was  near  the  place  where  the  footpath  turns  into  the 
road,  I  saw  the  guard  (who  had  seen  me  coming)  leave 
his  place  on  the  road,  and  run  toward  me  to  cut  me 
off.  I  tried  now  to  stop  my  horse,  but  I  could  do  noth 
ing  with  him,  so  I  whipped  him  as  hard  as  I  could,  and 
shut  my  eyes,  waiting  for  the  guard  to  shoot  me.  I 
heard  him  yell  at  me  to  halt,  and  then  I  heard  his  gun 
go  off. 

"  When  I  heard  the  bullet  strike  the  mail  bag,  I 
thought  that  it  had  hit  me,  and  I  was  so  afraid  that  I 
would  fall  to  the  ground,  and  that  they  would  take 
me  back  to  Mouton,  that  I  kept  on  whipping  my  horse, 
and  I  do  not  remember  anything  else  until  I  saw 
you,  mon  pere,  and  Pere  Martain  standing  on  the 
porch." 

The  boy  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

"  That  is  all,  mon  pere.  And  now  may  I  go  to  the 
house  and  have  my  mother  give  me  something  to  eat? 
I  have  eaten  nothing  since  early  this  morning." 

"  You  may  go,  my  son,"  answered  Monsieur  Landry 
gravely,  and  as  the  boy  walked  slowly  through  the 
store,  he  followed  the  retreating  figure  of  his  eyes 
until  it  had  vanished  from  his  sight. 

For  a  long  time  he  and  Father  Martain  sat  thinking 
of  what  the  boy  had  told  them,  each  of  them  dreading 
to  speak  of  this  threatened  calamity.  Finally  the 
silence  was  broken  by  Father  Martain,  who  holding  his 
old  hat  upon  his  lap,  caressed  it  tenderly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said: 

"This  is  bad,  my  friend;  very  bad.  And  Adrien 

30 


HOW   THE    MAIL    CAME    TO    LANDRY 

was  in  the  room  with  the  man  who  had  the  fever.  We 
are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  His  mercy  is  very  great. 
Perhaps  all  will  yet  be  well." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Monsieur  Landry,  but  his  voice 
lacked  the  ring  of  faith  that  had  accompanied  the 
words  of  the  good  priest. 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence,  and  in  the  mind  of 
Monsieur  Landry  the  words  of  Father  Martain  kept 
repeating  themselves  with  merciless  insistence: 

"  And  Adrien  was  in  the  room  with  the  man  who 
had  the  fever." 

Away  there,  where  the  road  turned  to  the  left,  lay 
Mouton,  with  its  railroad,  its  big  postoffice,  and  its 
stores  of  every  description.  It  was  their  mother  city, 
the  source  of  their  mail,  their  news,  their  connection 
with  the  outside  world. 

Only  a  week  ago  Monsieur  Landry  had  been  there, 
buying  at  the  stores,  calling  upon  old  friends,  and 
meeting  new  ones.  Then  all  had  been  peaceful 
and  happy.  The  people  in  the  streets  had  joked  and 
laughed,  their  minds  free  from  care. 

And  now,  into  this  peace,  into  this  happiness,  had 
come  a  vague  terror,  a  thing  to  make  the  bravest  heart 
quail  at  its  very  awfulness,  a  thing  which  none  could  see, 
none  could  grapple  with,  stealing  unawares  into  the 
town,  unknown  until  heralded  by  death,  by  despair,  by 
terror,  it  had  made  its  presence  felt.  A  thing  which 
none  could  stop,  none  could  swerve,  destroying  young 
and  old,  rich  and  poor;  a  thing  insatiable  and  relentless. 

And  now  out  of  this  terror,  this  despair,  had  come 
Adrien,  bringing  with  him,  perhaps,  the  seeds  of  this 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

destroyer,  to  plant  them  unwillingly  amid  the  peace 
and  quiet  of  Landry. 

Monsieur  Landry  bowed  his  head,  the  words  of  the 
priest  still  repeating  themselves,  as  though  burned  into 
his  brain  with  letters  of  fire. 

Very  slowly  Father  Martain  arose  from  his  chair, 
and  very  slowly  he  placed  the  old  hat  upon  his  head. 
Going  over  to  the  storekeeper,  he  laid  his  hand 
affectionately  upon  his  shoulder. 

'*  You  must  put  your  trust  in  God,"  said  he.  "  We 
are  in  His  hands.  I  would  not  let  anyone  come  near 
Adrien  until — "  The  good  priest  hesitated  for  a 
moment.  "  Until  we  know  what  is  going  to  happen," 
he  finished  softly. 

"I  am  going  now  to  the  church  to  pray.  It  is  all 
that  we  can  do.  So  good-bye,  my  friend,  and  hope 
for  the  best." 

Monsieur  Landry  rose  to  his  feet  slowly  and  with 
difficulty.  He  seemed  to  have  grown  old  in  the  last  few 
moments,  and  his  ruddy  face  now  had  an  ashy  hue. 
Without  a  word  he  held  out  his  hand,  and  Father 
Martain,  shaking  it  warmly  for  a  moment,  left  the 
porch,  and  walked  slowly  toward  the  church,  his  head 
bent  low. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MONSIEUR  LANDRY  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

FOR  a  long  time  Monsieur  Landry  stood  where 
the  good  priest  had  left  him,  staring  down  the 
road,  his  mind  numbed  by  this  totally  unexpected 
piece  of  news. 

Thus  he  stood,  seeing  nothing,  hearing  nothing 
knowing  nothing,  until  suddenly  he  saw  the  mail  bag, 
lying  where  he  had  left  it,  by  the  side  of  his  chair,  and 
the  sight  of  this  mail  bag  destroyed  the  frozen  condi 
tion  of  Monsieur  Landry's  brain,  just  as  a  stone  thrown 
into  an  ice-covered  pool  will  destroy  the  frozen  condi 
tion  of  its  surface.  As  if  by  magic  it  removed  from 
his  mind  the  grewsome  thoughts  with  which  it  had 
been  filled,  and  this  man,  who  had  been  a  moment 
before  as  one  made  of  stone,  was  now  the  postmaster, 
eager  to  sort  his  letters,  and  curious  to  see  for  whom 
they  were  intended. 

Picking  up  the  bag  he  walked  briskly  into  the  store 
and  behind  the  counter  to  the  little  glass  mail  box. 
Here  he  unlocked  the  padlock  of  the  bag,  and  thrust 
ing  his  hand  inside  drew  out  the  letters. 

There  were  very  few  of  them,  eight  or  ten  in  all, 
and  when  he  had  taken  them  out,  the  storekeeper  laid 
them  upon  the  counter  in  a  little  pile.  Now  the  top 

33 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

letter  on  this  pile  was  addressed  to  Monsieur  Landry 
himself,  and  without  looking  at  the  others,  he  opened  it 
and  read  it.  It  was  from  a  firm  of  commission  mer 
chants  in  New  Orleans  that  wished  to  sell  his  cotton 
crop  for  that  year.  The  letter  was  strictly  a  business 
one,  giving  the  rates  for  cotton  together  with  the  com 
missions,  but  at  the  end  there  was  a  sentence  that  made 
Monsieur  Landry  start.  It  ran: 

"  We  would  like  to  sell  your  entire  crop,  and  if  you 
wish  references,  I  know  of  no  better  one  than  to  tell 
you  that  for  years  we  have  sold  all  of  the  sugar  that 
Major  William  H.  Lawrence  has  made  at  Lawrence 
Hall  plantation." 

Monsieur  Landry  read  this  sentence  several  times. 
He  had  heard  of  Major  Lawrence  and  of  Lawrence 
Hall  plantation;  who  had  not?  One  of  the  wealthiest 
sugar  planters  in  the  state,  Major  Lawrence  was  known 
by  every  one,  as  was  Lawrence  Hall,  famed  for  its  huge 
mill  and  wonderful  crops.  But  Monsieur  Landry  had 
not  known  that  Major  Lawrence's  initials  were  "  W. 
H.,"  and  as  he  thought  of  this  he  remembered  that 
those  of  the  other  Lawrence  were  the  same.  Never  in 
his  wildest  thoughts  had  the  storekeeper  connected  the 
wealthy  planter  with  the  mysterious  stranger,  but  now  it 
seemed  as  though  there  might  be  some  connection.  The 
more  Monsieur  Landry  thought  of  this,  the  less  he  could 
make  of  it;  and  finally  he  said,  "  It  is  a  mere  coinci 
dence,"  and  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind.  How 
ever,  he  carefully  placed  the  letter  in  his  pocket  for 
future  reference. 

He  now  turned  his  attention  to  the  other  letters, 

34 


MONS.    LANDRY    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY 

sorting  them  and  putting  them,  each  in  its  proper 
pigeonhole,  until  he  came  to  the  last  one.  This  letter 
was  lying  face  downward,  and  as  Monsieur  Landry 
picked  it  up,  he  saw  that  it  was  the  one  that  had  been  hit 
by  the  guard  who  shot  at  Adrien.  The  bullet  had 
passed  along  the  top  of  the  letter,  tearing  it  almost  off, 
and  it  was  only  kept  closed  by  a  little  piece  of  paper 
on  one  side. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  it  was  quite  dark  in  the  store, 
so  dark,  in  fact,  that  Monsieur  Landry  was  obliged  to 
hold  this  letter  very  close  to  his  eyes  to  read  the  address. 
And  holding  it  close  to  his  face,  with  his  back  to  the 
window,  that  the  few  remaining  rays  of  light  might 
reach  it,  he  read,  u  William  H.  Lawrence,  Jr.,  Landry 
P.  O.,  La." 

In  his  excitement  Monsieur  Landry  dropped  the  let 
ter.  He  had  seen  many  letters  for  Mr.  Lawrence,  but 
this  was  the  first  one  that  had  ever  had  "  Jr."  after 
the  name  in  the  address.  The  storekeeper  was  now 
almost  wild  with  curiosity. 

"  This  proves  that  Major  Lawrrence  is  his  relative, 
possibly  his  father,"  said  he;  "  but  if  only  I  knew  more. 
If  I  could  see  the  letter  inside." 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  the  torn  top,  where  the  bullet 
had  passed,  and  picking  up  the  letter  he  examined  it 
carefully.  By  breaking  the  little  piece  of  paper  at  the 
side,  the  envelope  could  be  opened,  and  its  contents 
taken  out. 

"  It  is  only  a  very  small  piece  of  paper,"  thought 
Monsieur  Landry,  "  and  I  cannot  imagine  how  the  bul 
let  missed  tearing  it  also.  One  could  tear  it  himself, 

35 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  who  would  know  the  difference?  The  bullet  tore  it, 
of  course,  the  hole  in  the  mail  bag  will  prove  that,  and 
Father  Martain  saw  the  torn  letter  in  the  bag  before 
it  was  opened.  It  is  not  wrong  to  do  this  when  one 
is  as  mysterious  as  this  Lawrence.  What  can  be  easier 
than  to  tear  the  piece  of  paper,  and  learn  all  that  I  wish 
to  know?"  and  the  fingers  of  the  storekeeper  closed 
nervously  upon  the  letter,  about  to  do  their  owner's 
bidding. 

Suddenly  he  paused.  What  if  Mr.  Lawrence  should 
call  for  his  letter  at  the  moment  when  he  was  reading  it? 

A  thought  struck  Monsieur  Landry. 

"  It  is  dark,"  said  he.  "  I  will  close  the  store  so 
that  none  can  disturb  me."  And  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word,  he  went  quickly  about  the  building,  barring 
the  door  and  shutting  the  windows.  When  he  had  fin 
ished,  it  was  pitch  dark  inside,  and  groping  his  way 
to  the  counter,  he  lit  a  lamp,  whose  small  flame  gave 
but  scant  light  in  the  black  interior. 

Taking  the  letter,  he  tore  the  envelope  quickly  with 
a  jerk  of  his  finger,  and  drawing  out  the  enclosure,  he 
laid  it  on  the  counter  in  the  lamplight. 

Instead  of  the  letter  that  he  had  expected,  there  was 
another  envelope  stamped,  sealed  and  postmarked 
from  Mouton,  showing  that  whoever  had  sent  back  the 
letter,  had  sent  it  back  unread.  But  it  was  the  address 
on  this  envelope  that  caused  Monsieur  Landry  to  cry 
out  in  his  triumph,  for  there,  showing  black  in  the  light 
of  the  lamp,  and  written  in  the  hand  of  the  mysterious 
Lawrence,  was  this  inscription,  "  Major  William  H. 
Lawrence,  Lawrence  Hall  Plantation,  La." 

36 


MONS.    LANDRY    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY 

With  a  cautious  glance  over  his  shoulder,  as  though 
he  were  afraid  that  some  one  was  watching  him,  Mon 
sieur  Landry  shoved  the  sealed  envelope  in  the  torn  one, 
and  thrust  it  hurriedly  into  one  of  the  pigeonholes  in 
the  glass  box.  Then  dragging  a  chair  into  the  light, 
he  sat  down  to  think  over  his  discovery. 

For  a  long  while  he  sat,  wrapped  in  thought,  and 
then,  bringing  his  fist  down  upon  the  counter,  he  said 
loudly,  as  though  addressing  some  one,  his  voice  ring 
ing  with  triumph: 

"  If  this  mysterious  man  is  not  the  son  of  Major 
Lawrence,  of  Lawrence  Hall  plantation,  then  am  I  the 
most  mistaken  man  in  Louisiana." 

And  as  he  sat  thus,  in  the  little  circle  of  light  cast 
by  the  lamp,  his  face  beaming  with  gratified  curiosity, 
the  words  of  Father  Martain  came  into  his  mind  as 
suddenly  and  as  clearly  as  though  some  one  had  shouted 
them  in  his  ear,  "  And  Adrien  was  in  the  room  with  the 
man  who  had  the  fever." 

Gone  instantly  were  the  joy  and  the  triumph,  and  in 
their  place  was  the  horror  of  the  evening.  Monsieur 
Landry  gazed  into  the  dark  corners  and  shuddered. 
He  thought  of  Adrien's  story,  of  Father  Martain  who 
had  gone  to  pray  for  his  safety,  for  the  safety  of 
Landry. 

And  while  this  good  man  was  invoking  the  Divine 
aid,  what  had  he  been  doing?  Had  he  prayed  for 
deliverance  from  this  great  evil?  No,  not  he.  In  the 
dark  of  the  store,  like  any  criminal,  he  had  done  a 
wicked  deed,  a  crime,  for  which  he  should  be  punished. 
And  at  this  time,  when  he  should  have  been  at  peace 

37 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

with  God,  he  had  done  it.    Was  it  right  for  him  to  ask 
for  favors  now?    Would  God  now  be  merciful? 

These  thoughts,  together  with  the  terrors  of  the 
evening,  filled  the  mind  of  Monsieur  Landry,  and,  his 
overwrought  nerves  giving  way,  he  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  hands,  and  abandoned  himself  to  his  emotion. 


CHAPTER   V 

MR.    LAWRENCE    RECEIVES   A    LETTER 

THE  sun  was  well  up,  and  already  its  warm  rays 
were  beginning  to  tell  of  the  heat  to  come, 
when  Lawrence  rode  homeward  from  Landry 
with  his  mail. 

His  attitude  toward  the  storekeeper  that  morning 
had  been  formal  indeed,  and  would  have  rapidly  in 
creased  to  anger  at  sight  of  the  torn  envelope  had  not 
Monsieur  Landry  hastened  to  explain.  Long  and  elo 
quently  had  the  storekeeper  held  forth  upon  the  trials 
of  Adrien,  adding  to  them  many  little  details  of  his 
own,  and  when  he  had  finished,  Lawrence  had  for 
gotten  the  letter,  his  anger,  and  everything  save  this 
impending  calamity. 

To  his  many  anxious  questions  Monsieur  Landry  had 
replied  that  Adrien  was  safely  quarantined  in  an  out 
house,  and  that  the  doctor  would  be  unable  to  say 
anything  about  him  until  the  disease  had  time  to 
develop. 

So  therefore  it  was  that  Lawrence  set  forth  from 
Landry  a  very  downcast  man,  only  to  be  more  down 
cast  still  when  he  suddenly  remembered  his  letter. 

This  letter,  the  most  important  one  that  he  had  ever 
received,  had  been  driven  from  his  mind  by  the  news 

39 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

of  the  fever,  so  now  when  he  had  a  chance  to  think  of 
it,  he  quickly  tore  off  the  envelope  and  examined  the 
inclosure. 

As  he  looked  at  the  letter  addressed  by  himself,  its 
seal  unbroken,  there  came  into  his  eyes  a  look  of 
despair — the  despair  of  one  who  has  staked  all  upon 
a  single  desperate  chance,  and  has  lost. 

So  this  was  the  fate  of  the  letter  from  which  he  had 
hoped  so  much,  upon  which  he  had  staked  the  future 
of  his  child.  His  father  had  not  even  opened  it,  had 
looked  upon  it  as  an  appeal  for  aid  for  himself,  and 
had  sent  it  back  unread. 

The  thought  of  this  only  hurt  Lawrence's  pride  the 
more,  for  he  had  written  with  no  thought  or  mention 
of  himself,  sending  only  a  plea  for  his  little  girl.  A 
short,  passionate  plea,  asking  that  in  case  of  his  death, 
the  child's  grandfather  would  give  her  his  protection. 
And  here  was  the  letter  thrown  back  at  him,  unopened 
and  unread. 

Slowly  he  tore  it  into  small  pieces  which  he  dropped 
by  the  roadside  as  his  horse  plodded  lazily  along — the 
bridle  hung  loosely  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle.  Thus 
sitting  very  straight  and  still,  he  went  on  between  the 
tall  Cherokee  hedges  until  he  came  to  his  home,  where 
the  horse  went  to  the  gate,  stopped  of  his  own  accord, 
and  waited  patiently  for  his  master  to  open  it. 

Lawrence's  house  was  comfortably  long,  and  white, 
and  green-shuttered,  but  its  paint  was  cracked  and  peel 
ing,  and  there  was  an  air  of  dilapidation  about  it  that 
showed  that  its  owner  was  not  in  the  best  of  circum 
stances.  The  fence  in  front  had  many  a  gap  and  break 

40 


MR.    LAWRENCE    RECEIVES   A    LETTER 

in  its  long,  sagging  line  of  pickets,  and  the  little  gate 
swung  loosely  upon  one  hinge.  On  entering  this  gate, 
one  passed  through  a  thick  row  of  china  trees,  which 
grew  on  either  side  of  the  path  that  led  to  the  house, 
and  at  the  end  of  this  path  were  two  huge  water  oaks. 
All  of  these  trees  combined  to  shut  out  a  great  deal 
of  light,  but  they  also  added  a  great  deal  of  shade  and 
coolness  to  the  long  porch  which  ran  the  entire  length 
of  the  house  in  front. 

It  was  here  that  Lawrence  came  after  having  unsad 
dled  his  horse,  and  dragging  a  chair  into  a  shady  cor 
ner,  he  sat  down  to  think  of  what  he  should  do  in  this, 
the  time  of  his  misfortune.  For  a  while  he  sat,  and 
tried  to  find  some  gleam  of  light  amid  the  darkness  in 
which  his  soul  was  plunged,  but  his  tired  brain  refused 
to  work. 

Rising  wearily  he  went  to  the  edge  of  the  porch  and 
called  for  his  daughter,  called  again  and  again,  until  a 
faint  voice  answered  him  from  far  back  in  the  field. 
Then  he  went  into  the  house,  and  returned  in  a  moment 
with  something  that  he  held  in  his  tightly  closed  hand, 
as  he  waited  for  the  arrival  of  his  little  girl. 

Around  the  corner  of  the  house  there  came  presently 
a  pointer  dog,  shambling  along  in  the  ungraceful  gait 
of  puppyhood,  his  great,  clumsy  paws  sprawling  out 
from  his  body  as  though  he  had  lost  control  of  them, 
and  behind  him,  running  hard,  her  little  blue  apron 
flaring  out  behind  her,  came  the  child. 

The  careworn  face  of  Lawrence  was  lit  with  a  smile 
for  an  instant,  as  he  beheld  her  approaching.  He  loved 
his  little  daughter  very  dearly,  and  she,  returning  that 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

love  a  hundred-fold,  was  the  one  bright  spot  in  a  very 
dreary  life. 

Running  quickly  to  the  steps  of  the  porch  the  child 
climbed  upon  her  father's  knee,  where,  breathing  hard 
from  her  recent  exertions,  she  looked  up  at  him 
inquiringly. 

Lawrence  stroked  her  hair  softly,  his  face  glowing 
with  his  great  love  for  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  my  daughter?  "  questioned 
he. 

"  Chicot  and  I  have  been  in  the  field  with  old  Telesse, 
mon  pere,"  she  answered. 

Lawrence  frowned. 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  that  you  must  not  speak 
French  to  me?"  he  asked.  The  child's  face  became 
grave  for  a  moment. 

"  I  am  sorry,  father,"  she  answered.  "  I  have  been 
with  old  Telesse  all  morning,  and  he  only  understands 
French.  I  am  sorry  father;  I  forgot." 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  said  Lawrence,  speaking  more  to 
himself  than  to  the  child,  "  it  will  not  be  long  before 
you  will  forget  to  speak  English  entirely,  living  where 
none  can  speak  it.  And  what  is  Telesse  doing  in  the 
field?" 

"  He  is  plowing,  and  so  are  the  nigger  boys," 
answered  the  child.  "  And  Telesse  let  me  ride  on  one 
of  the  mules.  And  Chicot  caught  a  rat,"  she  added 
proudly. 

At  the  mention  of  his  name,  the  dog  wagged  his 
tail  vigorously,  and  rose  up  and  put  his  front  paws 
upon  Lawrence's  knees.  The  little  girl  patted  him 

42 


MR.    LAWRENCE    RECEIVES   A   LETTER 

upon  his  head,  and  praised  him  loudly  for  his  skill  in 
hunting. 

Lawrence  smiled  at  this  for  a  moment,  and  then 
pushing  the  dog  away  from  him,  opened  his  hand,  dis 
closing  what  he  had  brought  with  him  from  the  house 
— a  long,  slender  chain  made  of  innumerable  tiny 
links  of  gold. 

The  child  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Isn't  it  pretty;  is  it  for  me?  "  she  cried. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lawrence  gravely,  "  it  is  for  you, 
but  I  want  you  to  listen  very  carefully  to  what  I  am 
going  to  tell  you,  and  you  must  never  forget  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child  solemnly,  "I  won't  never 
forget  it." 

Lawrence  now  drew  a  ring  from  his  finger.  He 
opened  the  clasp  of  the  chain  and  slipped  the  ring  upon 
it,  where  it  hung,  swinging  from  side  to  side,  with  the 
sunlight  glancing  from  the  polished  setting. 

The  ring  was  a  band  of  chased  gold,  set  with  a 
large  stone  of  reddish-brown  color,  mottled  with  white, 
and  upon  the  polished  surface  of  the  stone  was  cut  a 
crest,  whose  delicate  lines  and  tracery  showed  the  work 
of  a  master  hand. 

Lawrence  now  held  up  the  chain  with  its  dangling 
ring,  and  said,  slowly  and  impressively: 

"  This  chain  was  your  mother's,  and  from  it  hung 
the  holy  medals  which  she  always  wore.  The  medals  I 
cannot  give  you  now,  my  daughter,  for  I  prize  them 
too  much.  But  I  am  going  to  give  you  the  chain,  and 
I  want  you  to  wear  it  always. 

"  This  ring,"  he  continued,  holding  it  up  as  he  spoke, 

43 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  was  given  to  me  by  my  father  when  I  was  twenty-one 
years  of  age.  He  gave  one  like  it  to  my  brother  on  his 
twenty-first  birthday,  and  the  two  rings  are  so  much 
alike,  that  when  you  put  them  side  by  side  you  can 
hardly  tell  them  apart.  The  stones  are  two  carnelians 
that  your  grandfather  found  in  a  gully  on  his  planta 
tion,  and  the  family  crest  upon  them  was  engraved  in 
Paris  by  one  of  the  greatest  lapidaries  in  that  city.  The 
two  rings  are  made  from  an  old  brooch  that  belonged 
to  your  great-grandmother,  so  they  are  very  valuable 
for  family  reasons.  This  is  the  first  time  that  mine  has 
left  my  finger  since  my  father  gave  it  to  me  nine  years 
ago — but  my  little  girl,  what  have  I  been  talking 
about?  You  have  not  understood  a  word  of  what  I 
have  said,  and  I  have  gone  on  talking,  forgetting  all 
about  what  a  very  little  child  you  are." 

When  Lawrence  had  started  speaking,  the  child  had 
followed  every  word,  trying  vainly  to  understand  what 
he  was  talking  about,  but  as  he  went  on,  his  mind  now 
back  in  the  past  of  which  he  was  speaking,  utterly 
oblivious  to  the  age  of  his  listener,  she  gave  up  in 
despair,  and  sat  with  a  puzzled  look  upon  her  face,  her 
little  nose  wrinkled  up  in  bewilderment.  It  was  this 
puzzled  look  that  now  caused  Lawrence  to  stop  short  in 
his  narrative,  and  taking  the  chain,  he  clasped  it  about 
the  child's  neck,  tucking  it  under  the  collar  of  her  dress, 
so  that  it  was  completely  hidden  from  sight. 

"  Now  listen,  Aline,"  said  he,  "  this  is  what  you 
must  remember.  Do  not  try  to  think  of  what  I  have 
just  said,  but  listen  to  me  carefully.  You  must  wear 
this  ring  with  the  chain  always,  and  you  must  never 

44 


MR.    LAWRENCE    RECEIVES   A    LETTER 

show  it  to  any  one,  unless  you  are  in  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.     Do  you  understand?" 

The  child  nodded. 

"  Now  say  it  after  me,"  said  Lawrence. 

Very  slowly  they  repeated  it  together,  until  the  child 
could  say  it  alone,  when  Lawrence  kissed  her,  and  put 
ting  her  down  upon  her  feet  said : 

"  That's  a  good  girl;  never  forget  what  I  have  told 
you.  Run  away  and  play  with  Chicot  now,  for  father 
wants  to  be  alone." 

He  watched  her  as  she  ran  away  to  the  field,  the 
dog  following  clumsily  after  her. 

"  Poor  little  child,"  said  he,  "  what  will  your  future 
be,  I  wonder?  How  happy  and  how  free  from  care 
you  are  now — what  will  you  be  ten  years  hence  ?  Who 
will  care  for  you  when  I  am  gone?  Who  will  know 
who  you  really  are?  Your  grandfather,  your  own  flesh 
and  blood,  has  cast  you  off — you,  an  innocent  little  child 
who  never  harmed  a  soul  in  your  blameless  life.  And 
why  should  you  suffer  for  the  wrong  of  your  father, 
who  loves  you  so  dearly?  " 

Many  thoughts  such  as  these  filled  the  mind  of  Law 
rence,  and  his  heart  was  very  bitter. 

"  Some  one  must  know  who  she  is,  who  I  am," 
thought  he;  "  it  is  her  right.  If  I  were  to  die,  she  with 
her  French,  that  she  must  speak  to  make  herself  under 
stood,  would  be  thought  a  Cajun.  With  none  to  care 
for  her  but  Telesse,  she  would  be  looked  upon  as  his 
daughter.  But  who  is  there  to  whom  I  can  turn,  to 
whom  I  can  tell  my  story?  Since  my  father  has  refused 
her  aid,  in  whom  can  I  confide? 

45 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  There  is  Colonel  Gordon  at  Belrive — but  no,  I 
could  not  tell  him.  My  pride  would  prevent  me.  Then 
there  is  Landry  with  Doctor  Lemaire.  He  would  not 
do;  he  is  too  old  to  outlive  me.  And  Mr.  Landry?  He 
is  too  curious.  I  could  not  trust  to  his  discretion. 

"  And  is  there  not  one  soul  in  all  this  country  to 
whom  I  can  tell  my  story?  " 

Lawrence  bowed  his  head  in  despair,  and  the  bitter 
ness  within  his  heart  was  very  great.  Slowly  he  placed 
his  arm  upon  the  railing,  and  sinking  his  head  upon  his 
hands,  pressed  his  palms  against  it  as  though  he  would 
drive  into  it  by  force  the  name  of  the  person  that  he 
wanted. 

And  as  he  sat  thus,  plunged  in  despair,  there  came 
suddenly  before  him  a  face. 

It  was  an  old  face,  the  skin  cracked  and  wrinkled 
like  parchment,  framed  by  long  locks  of  yellowish  white 
hair.  The  face  had  eyes  of  a  faint  blue,  eyes  that 
beamed  with  a  great  love  for  all  things,  and  the  mouth 
bore  a  smile  that  was  a  balm  to  all  suffering  souls. 
Crowning  the  white  hair  and  shading  the  face  was  an 
old  hat — an  old,  black  hat  with  a  wide  brim. 

Very  quietly  Lawrence  raised  his  head,  and  upon  his 
face  there  was  a  great  calm.  Very  quietly  he  rose 
from  his  chair  and  smiled  with  satisfaction,  for  he  had 
found  his  man. 


CHAPTER    VI 

NUMA   ASKS    A    PRICE    FOR   SILENCE 

DOWN  in  the  field,  back  of  the  house,  old 
Telesse  was  at  work  harvesting  Lawrence's 
cane  crop.  He  was  an  old  man,  his  hair 
just  turned  a  yellowish  white,  which  made  him  look 
much  older  than  he  really  was,  but  in  his  gray  eyes 
there  was  a  twinkle,  which  spoke  of  a  vitality  that  was 
far  from  being  extinguished. 

As  he  followed  behind  the  plow,  his  bare  feet  sink 
ing  ankle-deep  in  the  rich,  black  earth,  his  voice  rising 
every  now  and  then  as  he  urged  his  mules  on  to  their 
work,  he  was  a  Cajun  of  the  Cajuns,  speaking  no 
language  but  their  French  patois,  his  English  being 
barely  intelligible. 

For  this  simple  old  man,  whose  thoughts  never 
strayed  beyond  the  present,  this  world  held  but  three 
things  which  counted. 

First  there  was  his  religion,  the  religion  of  his  peo 
ple,  of  his  friends,  the  religion  that  brought  them  from 
the  far-off  prairies  Sunday  after  Sunday  to  worship  in 
the  little  church  at  Landry.  Wholly  illiterate,  his  mind 
untutored  beyond  the  simple  necessities  of  life,  to  this 
old  man  his  religion  meant  everything.  To  the  good 
priest  he  went  in  happiness,  to  rejoice  with  him  at  his 

47 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

good  fortune,  and  to  him  he  went  in  sorrow,  for  sym 
pathy,  for  comfort. 

After  his  religion  came  the  old  man's  master.  To 
him  he  gave  his  respect,  his  obedience,  his  submission. 
Had  anyone  asked  him  to  tell  who  the  greatest  man  in 
the  world  was,  he  would  have  answered  instantly,  "  The 
good  Father  Martain,"  but  he  would  have  added, 
"  Monsieur  Lawrence  is  a  very  great  man  also."  His 
love  for  his  master  was  very  great,  but  it  was  tempered 
with  a  great  respect,  the  respect  of  the  weaker  mind  for 
the  stronger  one. 

And  last,  there  came  the  little  girl,  Aline.  The  old 
man  loved  her  with  his  whole  heart,  loved  her  above  all 
else  in  the  world. 

He  loved  his  religion,  but  he  stood  in  awe  of  it. 
There  was  much  that  he  could  not  understand.  He 
loved  his  master  also,  but  at  times  he  feared  him  because 
of  his  knowledge.  But  the  little  girl,  with  her  simple, 
childish  mind,  simple  and  childish  like  his  own,  was 
loved  by  him  freely,  unrestrainedly,  loved  with  the 
faithful,  undying  love  that  the  dog  has  for  its  master — 
the  love  that  has  no  reason,  beginning  without  cause, 
and  lasting  forever. 

On  and  on  went  the  old  man,  finishing  one  furrow, 
only  to  start  another,  the  mules  plodding  patiently 
along,  the  bright  blade  of  the  plow  turning  back  the 
warm  earth,  which  broke  and  scattered  like  ashes. 

Seated  high  upon  one  of  the  cane  rows,  the  green 
leaves  making  a  canopy  above  her,  sat  the  little  girl, 
her  blue  apron  a  pleasing  bit  of  color  against  the  brown 
and  green  of  the  field.  By  her  side  lay  the  dog,  his 


NUMA    ASKS   A    PRICE    FOR    SILENCE 

nose  between  his  paws,  one  eye  open  in  quest  of  a 
possible  rat.  The  little  girl,  like  a  princess  seated  upon 
her  throne,  divided  her  conversation  between  the  old 
man  and  the  dog,  chatting  merrily  with  the  former 
whenever  he  came  by,  and  talking  softly  to  the  latter 
when  the  plow  had  passed. 

Suddenly  the  dog  started  up  growling,  his  hair  rising 
upon  his  back  in  little  ridges,  and  the  child,  looking  for 
the  cause  of  it,  saw  a  boy  carefully  crawling  through 
the  barbed  wire  fence  that  separated  the  field  from  the 
road. 

Paying  no  attention  to  the  little  girl,  who  was 
quieting  the  dog  with  sundry  soft  pats  upon  his 
head,  the  boy  walked  quickly  to  the  end  of  the  row 
which  old  Telesse  was  plowing,  and  waited  for  him  to 
approach. 

When  the  old  man  saw  this  boy  his  face  became 
troubled.  Drawing  up  his  mules  at  the  end  of  the  fur 
row,  he  confronted  him  defiantly,  one  hand  still  hold 
ing  the  plow,  as  though  he  expected  the  conversation 
to  be  a  brief  one. 

"  Well,  Numa,"  he  asked  in  French,  "  what  is  it 
now?" 

The  boy  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but  stood 
silent,  his  brown  face  twisting  with  emotion.  Within 
him  pride  and  grief  were  struggling,  and  it  was  some 
little  time  before  pride  was  triumphant. 

"  My  father  is  dead,"  he  answered  finally.  "  He 
died  last  night.  I  am  a  man  now,  and  the  horse,  the 
wagon,  even  the  gun,  are  mine.  Everything  belongs 
to  me." 

49 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Old  Telesse  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully. 

"  Your  father  is  dead;  he  died  last  night?  That  is 
bad,"  said  he  slowly;  "that  is  very  bad."  But  the 
expression  upon  his  face  belied  his  words,  for,  if  ever 
a  man  looked  relieved,  if  ever  a  man  looked  pleased  at 
hearing  a  piece  of  news,  that  man  was  old  Telesse. 

"  When  will  you  bury  him?  "  he  asked. 

"  Late  this  afternoon,"  answered  the  boy.  "  Father 
Martain  is  coming  to  the  woods,  and  we  will  bury  him 
there." 

The  old  man  nodded  again,  and  then,  as  though 
he  considered  the  conversation  at  an  end,  prepared  to 
move  the  plow  to  the  next  row. 

"  Wait  a  moment!  "  yelled  the  boy;  "  that  is  not  all. 
I  must  have  some  money  for  the  burial,  for  the " 

The  old  man  turned  upon  him  fiercely. 

"  It  was  always  money,  and  more  money  with  your 
father,  and  now  do  you  expect  to  keep  on  with  the 
same  thing?  "  he  cried.  "  If  you  do  not  leave  the  field 
at  once,  I  will  try  this  whip  upon  you,"  and  he  made  a 
threatening  gesture. 

Into  the  black  eyes  of  the  boy  there  came  a  crafty 
look,  the  look  of  one  who,  having  another  in  his  power, 
grinds  him  without  mercy. 

"  Before  my  father  died,"  said  he  slowly,  "  he  told 
me  of  the  man  that  you " 

The  old  man's  arms  shot  out  in  a  beseeching  gesture, 
his  whole  being  pleading  for  mercy. 

"  Stop !  "  he  cried.  "  It  is  all  right.  You  shall  have 
the  money,  only  keep  still.  How  much  is  it  that  you 
want?"  ' 

50 


NUMA   ASKS   A    PRICE    FOR    SILENCE 

The  boy  smiled  with  satisfaction. 

"Ten  dollars,"  answered  he.  u  I  must  buy  some 
things  at  the  store,  besides  paying  for  the  burial." 

The  old  man  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully  for  a 
moment. 

u  That  is  a  great  deal  of  money,"  said  he,  "  but  I 
will  see  what  I  can  do.  Come  up  to  the  house  and  wait 
outside  for  me.  Did  you  come  in  the  wagon  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  boy.  "  I  walked  all  the  way. 
They  are  going  to  use  the  wagon  to  carry  my  father 
in,  and  they  are  painting  it.  Painting  it  black — for 
death,"  he  added  grimly. 

Up  from  the  field  went  the  old  man  and  the  boy,  the 
little  girl  following  behind  them,  and  when  they  reached 
the  house  Telesse  went  inside,  leaving  the  boy  upon  the 
back  steps. 

The  old  man  was  inside  a  long  time,  and  when  he 
came  out  he  handed  the  boy  a  handful  of  silver. 

"  Now  go !  "  said  he.  "  And  I  hope  that  your  father 
is  suffering  in  hell!  "  he  added  under  his  breath. 

Without  a  word  of  thanks  the  boy  thrust  the  money 
into  the  pocket  of  his  ragged  trousers  and  started  off 
toward  the  front  gate,  whistling  as  he  went. 

The  old  man  looked  after  him  angrily  until  he  turned 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  then,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  went  back  to  his  plowing  again. 

The  boy  went  his  way,  whistling  loudly  until  he 
reached  the  front  gate,  where  he  found  the  little  girl 
playing  with  her  dog  in  the  shade  of  the  thickly-grow 
ing  china  trees.  Half  way  through  the  gate  he  paused, 
struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  child,  and  leaning  against 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

one  of  the  posts,  he  took  off  his  battered  hat  with  a 
great  sweep. 

"  Good-by,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  You  are  a  pretty 
child,  and  I  like  you." 

The  little  maid,  seated  demurely  upon  the  ground, 
eyed  him  scornfully. 

"  I  will  say  good-by,  Numa,"  she  answered,  "  but 
you  are  a  bad,  ugly  boy;  my  father  says  so,  and  you 
look  like  Tony,  the  dago." 

Into  Numa's  brown  cheeks  there  flashed  a  streak  of 
red. 

"  I  am  not  a  dago,"  he  answered  proudly;  "  I  am 
half  Spanish.  And  I  am  not  bad  or  ugly  either;  your 
father  does  not  tell  the  truth  when  he  says  so.  You 
called  me  a  boy,  but  I  am  not  a  boy;  I  am  a  man.  My 
father  is  dead,  and  all  his  things  belong  to  me.  I  am 
going  to  the  woods  now,  to  hunt,  to  work  like  a  man, 
but  some  day  I  am  going  to  come  back  and  marry  you, 
for  you  are  the  prettiest  little  girl  that  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  I  like  you.  And  now  won't  you  kiss  me  good-by?  " 
he  asked  teasingly. 

The  little  girl  drew  her  short  skirt  about  her,  as 
though  she  did  not  wish  it  to  rest  upon  the  ground  that 
he  had  trod. 

"  No,  Numa,"  answered  she.  "  You  are  a  wicked 
boy,  and  you  are  a  brown  boy,  too.  Father  has  told 
me  never  to  kiss  anybody  that  is  not  white  like  I  am." 

Numa's  face  flushed  with  anger. 

"  I  am  going  to  make  you  kiss  me  now,  whether  you 
want  to  or  not!  "  he  cried,  and  seizing  her  by  the  hand, 
he  drew  her  roughly  through  the  gate  into  the  road. 

52 


NUMA   ASKS   A    PRICE    FOR    SILENCE 

Then  ensued  a  struggle  in  the  hot,  dusty  highway: 
Numa  trying  to  bring  the  angry  little  face  up  to  his 
own,  the  child  digging  her  head  stubbornly  downward, 
and  striking  at  him  with  her  little  pink  fists. 

So  engrossed  was  Numa  in  the  conflict  that  he  did 
not  hear  a  horse  rapidly  approaching,  and  just  as  he 
was  about  to  drag  the  tired  little  head  triumphantly 
upward,  a  hand  seized  his  collar,  almost  jerking  him 
backward  into  the  dust.  Looking  up  angrily  he  saw  a 
boy  younger  than  himself,  handsomely  dressed,  and 
astride  a  small  black  pony. 

'  You  are  a  coward  to  fight  a  girl,  and  such  a  little 
girl,  too,"  said  the  boy. 

The  culprit  eyed  him  sullenly  for  a  moment. 

"  Well,  it  is  none  of  your  business,"  replied  he. 
"  You  go  away  and  leave  me  alone." 

"  But  it  is  my  business,"  said  the  boy,  "  and  if  you 
don't  go  away  and  leave  this  little  girl  alone,  I'll  get 
off  my  horse  and  give  you  a  good  beating." 

Numa  answered  never  a  word  to  this,  and  walked 
sullenly  away  behind  the  horse,  as  though  he  were  going 
to  follow  its  rider's  instructions,  but  no  sooner  was  the 
boy's  back  toward  him,  than,  stooping,  he  picked  up  a 
large  clod  of  dirt,  and  threw  it  with  all  his  might  at 
his  enemy.  The  clod  struck  him  fairly  between  the 
shoulders,  almost  knocking  him  from  his  horse,  but 
not  waiting  to  see  the  effects  of  his  throw,  Numa  ran 
quickly  across  the  road,  and  diving  through  the  barbed 
wire  fence  on  the  other  side  he  darted  out  across  the 
fields,  where  it  was  impossible  for  the  boy  to  follow  him 
upon  his  horse. 

53 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  newcomer  screwed  up  his  handsome  face  and 
winked  bravely,  in  the  effort  to  keep  back  the  tears 
that  rose  to  his  eyes,  for  the  blow  had  been  a  hard 
one.  One  quick  glance  showed  him  that  to  pursue  this 
cowardly  assailant  would  be  impossible,  so  after  rub 
bing  his  aching  back  vigorously  for  a  moment,  he  turned 
his  attention  to  the  little  girl. 

She  stood  with  her  hand  upon  the  gate,  prepared  for 
instant  retreat,  should  it  be  necessary,  her  face  still 
flushed  from  her  recent  exertions. 

When  the  boy  now  turned  toward  her,  she  nodded 
at  him,  smiling. 

'  Thank  you,  boy,"  said  she  simply. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  answered  he.  "  I  won't  let 
any  boy  hurt  a  girl,  if  I  can  help  it.  But  that  boy  is  a 
coward,  for  he  hit  me  behind  my  back." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  little  girl,  "  Numa  is  a  coward,  and 
I  hate  him.  But  I  like  you,"  she  finished,  smiling  at 
him  again. 

The  boy's  face  became  red  with  embarrassment. 

"  I  like  you,  too,"  said  he.  "  You  are  a  very  pretty 
little  girl,  and  I  am  coming  to  see  you  some 'time.  I 
am  going  to  catch  that  boy  some  day  and  beat  him 
well,  and  if  he  ever  bothers  you  again  you  must  let 
me  know." 

The  child  nodded,  and  with  a  good-by  and  a  wave 
of  his  hand,  the  boy  started  off  up  the  road.  He  went 
only  a  little  way,  the  child  following  him  with  her  eyes, 
when  he  suddenly  turned  his  pony  and  came  riding 
back.  Reaching  the  gate  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
said: 

54 


NUMA   ASKS   A    PRICE    FOR   SILENCE 

"  I  just  thought  I  would  come  back  and  tell  you  my 
name,  and  where  I  live,  for  if  I  do  not  do  so,  you  will 
not  know  where  to  send  for  me  if  that  boy  bothers  you 
again.  I  live  at  Belrive  plantation,  and  my  name  is 
Gordon,  Carey  Gordon,"  and  waving  his  hand  again, 
he  rode  swiftly  up  the  road  and  out  of  sight. 

The  little  girl  went  back  to  the  dog,  who  lay  sprawl 
ing  under  the  trees.  Sitting  down,  she  put  his  head 
in  her  lap,  stroked  the  animal  softly  and  said: 

"  I  like  that  boy.  He  is  a  pretty  boy,  and  I  hope 
that  he  will  come  and  see  me  soon ;  don't  you,  Chicot?  " 

And  sitting  there  in  the  shade  of  the  trees,  little 
Aline  found  her  first  love,  found  him,  and  she  did  not 
know  it. 


55 


CHAPTER    VII 

MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES    HIS    MAN 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  it  was  very  warm 
at  Landry;  so  warm,  in  fact,  that  Father  Martain 
had  forsaken  the  stuffy  atmosphere  of  his  house, 
and  had  come  into  his  little  garden  for  shade  and 
comfort. 

This  garden  (which  was  the  pride  of  Father  Mar- 
tain's  heart,  and  which  he  considered  the  very  finest 
garden  in  the  world)  would  have  caused  a  real  gar 
dener  to  open  his  eyes  in  amazement.  Flowers,  and 
fruits,  and  vegetables  grew  here  in  the  greatest  pro 
fusion,  presenting  such  a  confused  and  mixed  appear 
ance  that  for  a  moment  one  would  have  been  at  a  loss 
to  know  how  all  of  these  different  vines,  plants  and 
bushes  came  to  be  growing  together. 

And  in  the  very  midst  of  it  all  stood  a  huge  fig  tree, 
its  heavy  foliage  casting  a  deep  shade,  its  wilderness 
of  branches  the  haunt  of  a  multitude  of  birds  who 
chattered  shrilly  as  they  fought  for  the  cool  brown 
fruit  that  grew  in  the  greatest  abundance. 

In  the  shade  of  this  tree  sat  the  good  priest.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  boy  Adrien,  and  his  heart  was  calling 
out  to  God  for  a  speedy  deliverance  from  the  fever. 
An  unopened  book  on  the  table  beside  him  was  an 

56 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES   HIS    MAN 

indication  that  he  had  come  out  to  read,  but  his  thoughts 
were  far  from  any  such  diversion,  and  he  gazed 
absently  before  him. 

Beyond  the  white  picket  fence  which  enclosed  his 
garden  lay  Landry,  basking  drowsily  in  the  sun. 

There  was  the  store  of  Monsieur  Landry,  its  little 
porch  deserted,  a  few  Creole  ponies  standing  sleepily 
at  the  rack  in  front,  while  their  owners  talked  to  the 
storekeeper  in  the  cool  interior  of  the  building. 

There,  further  down  the  road,  was  the  house  of 
Doctor  Lemaire,  rising  white  and  cool  amid  its  set 
ting  of  green,  the  little  drug  store  beside  it  standing 
with  closed  door  and  barred  windows,  telling  of  the 
doctor's  absence. 

And  beyond  the  drug  store,  the  dilapidated  black 
smith  shop,  with  the  cabin  back  of  it,  was  silent  and 
deserted,  the  blacksmith  stretched  lazily  beneath  a  tree, 
sleeping  away  the  hot  summer  afternoon. 

All  was  quiet  with  the  silence  of  contentment. 

From  the  blacksmith  shop  a  little  girl  came  walking, 
a  bright  tin  pail  swinging  in  her  hand,  her  steps  turned 
toward  the  store.  From  the  chimney  of  Monsieur  Lan- 
dry's  house  came  a  faint  wisp  of  smoke,  the  herald  of 
an  early  supper. 

All  seemed  peaceful  and  happy  in  the  little  town  of 
Landry. 

Father  Martain  watched  the  girl  with  the  pail,  and 
presently  he  himself  became  drowsy.  He  wondered 
what  she  would  buy  when  she  came  to  the  store,  and 
what  she  would  pay  for  it,  and  while  doing  this  the 
good  priest  fell  asleep. 

57 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  while  he  slept,  a  man  who  had  ridden  up  the 
Mouton  road  came  down  his  little  brick  walk  to  where 
he  sat  beneath  the  fig  tree. 

For  a  moment  the  man  stood  beside  the  sleeping 
priest,  wondering  whether  he  should  disturb  him  or 
not,  and  then  he  saw  a  chair  placed  at  the  other  side 
of  the  table  from  the  sleeping  man — placed  there  as 
though  in  expectation  of  a  visitor.  The  newcomer 
went  over  to  this  chair,  and,  seating  himself,  waited  for 
Father  Martain  to  awake.  For  a  while  he  sat  thus,  his 
eyes  traveling  over  the  garden,  which  seemed  to  amuse 
him  very  much,  and  then  Father  Martain,  suddenly 
giving  a  little  jump,  sat  up  straight  in  his  chair,  his 
eyes  open,  wide  awake. 

He  did  not  immediately  see  his  visitor,  but  stretch 
ing  himself  as  though  very  well  satisfied  with  his  nap, 
he  stooped  to  pick  up  his  book,  which  had  fallen  at  his 
feet.  As  he  raised  himself,  he  saw  for  the  first  time 
the  newcomer,  who  sat  across  the  table  smiling  at  him. 

Father  Martain  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  Lawrence !  "  he  cried,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 
But  how  did  you  come  here?  You  surprised  me." 

Lawrence  smiled. 

"  You  were  asleep  when  I  came,"  he  replied,  "  and 
I  did  not  want  to  wake  you  up,  so  I  just  sat  down,  and 
waited  for  you  to  wake  up  yourself." 

"  That  was  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Father  Martain, 
"  but  I  should  not  have  minded.  The  next  time  that 
you  come,  if  I  am  asleep,  you  must  wake  me.  And 
now  let  me  offer  you  some  figs.  They  are  very  nice, 

58  " 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES   HIS    MAN 

and  we  must  eat  them  while  we  have  them,  for  next 
month  I  will  not  be  able  to  give  you  any  when  you 
come  to  see  me." 

As  he  spoke  he  pushed  the  dish  of  figs  across  the 
table  to  Lawrence,  who  appearing  to  be  embarrassed 
for  some  reason,  began  eating  them  as  though  his  life 
depended  upon  his  emptying  the  dish. 

Father  Martain  had  spoken  to  Lawrence  as  though 
he  had  not  only  paid  him  a  great  many  visits  before, 
but  he  expected  to  see  him  pay  a  great  many  more 
visits  in  the  future.  Now  the  truth  of  the  matter  was, 
that  Lawrence  had  never  before  paid  the  priest  a  visit, 
but  Father  Martain  had  seen  that  he  was  embarrassed, 
and  he  wished  to  put  him  at  his  ease. 

Therefore,  he  spoke  to  him  in  this  manner,  and  in 
the  mind  of  the  good  priest  there  was  no  great  curi 
osity.  He  knew  that  Lawrence  had  some  very  good 
reason  for  coming  to  see  him,  and  he  also  knew  that  he 
would  find  out  what  that  reason  was  before  very  long. 
He  was  content  to  wait  until  Lawrence  should  tell  him 
what  it  was. 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  sat  in  silence,  Lawrence 
peeling  and  eating  the  figs  in  apparent  enjoyment, 
until  finally  he  waved  his  arm  about  him  as  though  to 
take  in  the  entire  garden. 

"  That  is  a  fine  garden  you  have,"  said  he. 

Father  Martain  smiled,  for  he  liked  to  have  his 
garden  praised. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  nice  garden,  and  I  like 
it  very  much,  but  some  people  do  not  like  it  because 
I  have  my  flowers  and  vegetables  mixed  up  together." 

59 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"It  is  rather  a  peculiar  way  to  make  a  garden," 
replied  Lawrence.  "  Why  did  you  plant  it  in  that 
manner?  " 

"  I  planted  my  garden  that  way,"  replied  Father 
Martain  slowly,  "  for  two  reasons.  The  first  one  is, 
that  I  can  sit  here  in  my  chair  beneath  this  tree,  and 
can  look  at  the  same  time  at  my  flower  garden,  my 
vegetable  garden,  and  my  orchard,"  and  the  good  priest 
laughed  heartily  at  his  joke — the  joke  that  he  had  told 
to  every  one  for  years,  and  at  which  he  laughed  more 
heartily  each  time  he  told  it. 

Lawrence  laughed  also,  apparently  more  at  his  ease. 

"And  your  second  reason?"  he  inquired.  "If  it 
is  as  good  as  your  first  one,  no  one  could  blame  you  for 
planting  your  garden  upside  down,  if  you  wanted  to." 

Into  the  eyes  of  Father  Martain  there  came  a  look 
of  tenderness,  and  he  laid  his  hand  affectionately  upon 
the  knotted  trunk  of  the  fig  tree,  as  one  caressing  an  old 
and  tried  friend. 

"  To  me,"  said  he  softly,  "  all  the  growing  things 
which  are  planted  in  a  garden  are  like  people.  I  do 
not  mean  the  weeds,  of  course,  for  they  are  harmful 
and  choke  out  the  useful  plants,  so  I  kill  them  when  it 
is  necessary  to  do  so. 

"  Now  as  I  have  told  you,  I  look  upon  all  plants  as 
people,  and  they  all  belong  to  one  family.  They  live, 
they  grow,  and  each  has  its  little  part  to  play  in  the 
world.  People,  to  be  good  and  to  love  one  another, 
must  live  together,  where  each  can  see  the  other  and 
take  an  interest  in  his  welfare.  So,  to  me,  it  is  with 
the  plants,  and  I  really  believe  that  they  love  one 

60 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES    HIS    MAN 

another.  See  how  that  sweet  pea  vine  clings  to  the 
cornstalk  as  tenderly  as  a  child  clings  to  its  mother. 
Should  you  tear  the  child  from  its  mother's  arms  it 
would  die,  and  so  would  die  the  vine,  were  I  to  tear 
it  away. 

"  Therefore,  I  plant  my  flowers  and  vegetables 
together,  and  they  love  and  help  one  another  through 
their  short  lives,  just  as  we  should  do." 

The  good  priest  stopped  speaking,  and  Lawrence 
was  silent  for  a  moment  thinking  of  what  he  had  said. 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  thought,"  he  observed,  "  and 
one  that  should  be  a  lesson  to  all  men.  But  who  would 
have  conceived  such  an  idea  save  yourself,  Father 
Martain?" 

'  Very  many  would  have  done  so,"  replied  the  priest. 

Lawrence  laughed. 

"  No  one  but  yourself  could  have  thought  of  such  a 
thing,"  said  he.  "  And  now  I  should  like  to  speak  to 
you  about  the  business  that  I  have  come  upon.  I  don't 
suppose  that  you  imagined  that  I  came  to  ask  about 
your  garden?  " 

"  No,"  said  Father  Martain,  "  I  did  not." 

"  Then  to  begin  with,  I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor 
of  you,"  said  Lawrence.  "  Why  I  should  ask  it  of  you 
seems  I  suppose  strange,  as  I  am  not  of  your  religion, 
but  I  have  no  one  to  turn  to,  and  I  have  heard  from 
every  one  of  your  kindness  and  sympathy.  Therefore, 
I  have  come  to  you  with  my  trouble." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  came,  my  son,"  replied  the 
good  priest,  "  and  your  religion  will  play  no  part  in 
what  you  have  to  say.  It  is  our  mission  in  life  to 

61 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

help  all  who  are  in  trouble,  regardless  of  every 
thing.  And  now,  my  son,  what  is  it  that  you  have 
to  tell  me?" 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you  for  my  little  girl's  sake 
more  than  for  my  own,"  began  Lawrence,  "  and  as 
she  is  to  be  brought  up  in  your  faith,  who  better  than 
yourself  should  know  of  her  past,  and  look  to  her 
future?  As  you  know,  I  am  friendless  here,  and  should 
anything  happen  to  me,  my  child  would  be  left  alone 
without  any  one  knowing  who  she  really  is,  and  who 
she  is  you  will  know  when  I  have  finished  my  story. 
Have  you  ever  heard  of  Major  Lawrence,  of  Law 
rence  Hall  plantation?  " 

Father  Martain  nodded. 

"  I  have  lived  for  years  in  this  little  place,  where 
one  hears  of  but  few  people,"  answered  he,  "  but  even 
in  Landry  is  Major  Lawrence  known." 

"  He  is  my  father,"  said  Lawrence  simply. 

Father  Martain's  eyes  opened  wide  in  amazement. 

"  Is  it  possible?"  he  cried.  "And  how  is  it  that 
you  are  living  in  this  little  house  by  yourself?  " 

"  That,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  is  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you.  I  will  not  speak  of  my  youth  at  Lawrence 
Hall,  with  its  army  of  servants,  its  fields,  and  the  big 
sugar  house,  for  that  would  take  too  long.  It  will  be 
enough  to  tell  you  that  I  was  the  oldest,  and  my  father's 
favorite  child.  I  had  one  sister,  who  died,  and  there 
is  a  brother  younger  than  myself. 

"  My  mother  died  when  I  was  very  small,  and  my 
father  seemed  to  give  to  me  all  of  the  love  that  he 
had  lavished  upon  her.  My  slightest  wish  was  obeyed; 

62 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES    HIS    MAN 

there  was  nothing  that  I  desired  that  was  not  given 
me  immediately,  and  so,  as  you  can  imagine,  I  grew 
up  a  spoiled  headstrong  boy,  who  never  counted  the 
cost  of  anything. 

"  When  I  was  nineteen  years  of  age  I  was  sent  to 
college,  where  I  stayed  for  four  years,  doing  little  but 
spend  my  father's  money  and  get  myself  into  all  man 
ner  of  trouble.  Upon  my  return  home,  after  having 
finished  my  college  career,  my  father  determined  to 
celebrate  the  event  in  what  he  considered  an  appropri 
ate  manner,  and  for  three  days  there  was  feasting  and 
merry-making  on  the  plantation. 

'  There  were  barbecues,  dancing,  picnics,  and  every 
thing  that  you  can  think  of  that  would  amuse  the  field 
hands  and  their  families.  The  big  house  was  filled  with 
guests  also,  and  they  had  their  amusements  as  well  as 
the  hands,  so  that,  for  all,  the  three  days  was  one  con 
tinuous  round  of  merriment. 

"  Now,  among  the  many  guests  that  came  to  Law 
rence  Hall  at  this  time  was  a  young  girl,  whom  my 
father  was  very  anxious  I  should  marry.  She  was 
a  pretty  girl,  her  family  was  one  of  the  oldest  and 
best  in  this  country,  and  she  was  an  only  child,  heiress 
to  a  very  large  and  valuable  estate,  so  in  every  way 
she  was  a  young  person  with  whom  a  matrimonial 
alliance  would  be  very  desirable.  Her  father  was  also 
an  old  friend  of  my  father,  and  it  was  the  earnest 
desire  of  both  of  the  old  gentlemen  that  we  should 
marry. 

"  On  the  day  preceding  the  arrival  of  the  guests  my 
father  called  me  into  his  study  and  spoke  to  me  of  this 

63 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

matter,  and  so  great  was  his  desire  that  this  marriage 
should  take  place,  that  I  promised  him  that  I  would 
do  all  in  my  power  to  bring  it  about. 

"  So  the  guests  arrived,  and  the  plantation  was  filled 
with  merry-making,  one  amusement  ending  only  to  give 
place  to  another,  and  every  morning  I  would  make  up 
my  mind  to  speak  to  this  girl  before  the  day  was  ended, 
only  to  go  to  my  rest  at  night  with  my  purpose  unac 
complished. 

u  Finally  the  third  and  last  day  arrived,  and  I  had 
not  spoken.  On  the  morrow  the  guests  would  depart, 
and  with  them  would  go  the  girl  upon  whom  my 
father  had  set  his  heart.  Why  I  had  not  spoken  to 
her  I  did  not  know  then,  and  I  do  not  think  that  I 
can  tell  you  now,  but  I  suppose  that  the  excitement  and 
bustle  on  the  plantation  banished  all  thoughts  of  any 
thing  but  enjoying  myself  from  my  mind. 

"  The  evening  of  the  last  day  arrived,  and  as  I  dressed 
myself  for  dinner  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
speak  to  her  that  night.  The  negroes  were  to  have  a 
barbecue,  to  which  every  one  was  going,  and  I  thought 
that  it  would  be  a  very  good  time  and  place  to  make 
my  proposal. 

"  My  father  gave  a  very  fine  dinner  that  night,  and 
when  the  wine  was  served  he  rose  from  his  chair  and 
proposed  a  toast  to  the  future  mistress  of  Lawrence 
Hall,  whoever  she  might  be.  As  we  all  rose  to  drink 
it  standing,  my  father  gazed  across  the  table  at  the 
girl,  who  had  been  placed  next  to  me,  and  when  she, 
catching  his  eye,  blushed  a  fiery  red,  I  do  not  think 
that  there  was  a  person  at  that  table  that  had  any 

64 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES    HIS    MAN 

doubts  as  to  who  the  mistress  of  Lawrence  Hall 
would  be." 

Here  Lawrence  paused  for  breath,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  the  memories  of  days  long  past,  his  mind  ap 
parently  back  amid  the  scenes  which  he  was  describing. 
Father  Martain  said  never  a  word,  but  waited  patiently 
for  the  speaker  to  continue. 

"  After  the  dinner  was  over,"  said  Lawrence  in  a 
moment,  "  we  all  went  over  to  the  quarters  to  see  the 
barbecue,  and  it  was  so  arranged  that  the  girl  walked 
with  me.  The  negroes  had  built  a  great  fire,  and  were 
roasting  the  ox,  which  would  have  made  us  hungry  with 
its  tempting  odor  had  we  not  just  risen  from  the  table. 
Around  the  fire  there  was  a  large  number  of  negroes 
from  Lawrence  Hall  and  from  other  plantations 
for  miles  around,  and  they  all  seemed  to  be  having 
the  happiest  time  of  their  lives,  dancing,  singing, 
and  cheering  for  me,  every  one  of  them  with  his  or 
her  eye  upon  the  ox,  which  was  now  nearly  done. 

"  Standing  back  from  the  circle  of  fire  was  a  group 
of  white  people  gazing  like  ourselves  at  the  antics  of 
the  negroes,  but  unlike  ourselves,  waiting  to  eat  some 
of  the  savory  animal.  They  were  Cajun  tenants 
upon  my  father's  plantation  and  the  plantations 
nearby. 

"  While  we  were  viewing  this  strange  scene,  one  of 
the  best  dancers  on  the  plantation  began  to  dance,  and 
as  we  could  not  see  very  well  from  where  we  stood,  I 
called  to  the  girl  to  follow  me,  and  walked  into  the 
circle  of  negroes  opposite  the  place  where  the  Cajuns 
stood. 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  For  a  few  moments  I  watched  the  dancer,  and 
then,  looking  over  the  fire  toward  the  group  upon  the 
other  side,  I  saw  the  most  beautiful  girl  that  I  had  ever 
seen  in  my  life.  I  will  not  try  to  describe  her  to  you, 
for  I  could  not  find  words  fit  to  do  so,  but  at  this 
moment,  after  several  years,  I  can  see  her  as  plainly 
and  as  clearly  as  I  saw  her  that  night. 

"  She  was  standing  amid  the  group  of  roughly  clad 
people,  like  some  angel  descended  to  earth,  her  head 
thrown  back,  her  lips  smiling  at  me,  the  fire  lighting 
up  her  glorious  face  until  it  shone  as  the  faces  of  the 
saints  are  said  to  shine  in  heaven.  For  a  moment  we 
gazed  at  each  other  across  the  fire.  Then  a  group 
of  negroes  passing  in  front  of  me  shut  her  from  my 
sight,  but  in  that  moment  I  knew  that  I  should  never 
love  any  woman  save  this  glorious  creature.  Even 
in  my  newborn  love  I  thought  that  it  would  be  easier 
for  me  to  cross  the  barrier  of  flame  than  to  cross  the 
gulf  that  must  separate  our  two  lives. 

u  My  companion  now  tugged  my  coat  sleeve,  asking 
me  to  take  her  back  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  when 
I  turned  to  her,  I  found  that  instead  of  being  beautiful, 
as  I  had  thought  she  was,  she  was  plain  and  ugly  in 
comparison  with  the  other  girl.  I  also  thought  of  my 
promise  to  my  father  as  we  walked  back,  and  in  vindi 
cation  of  myself  I  must  tell  you  that  I  tried  to  say  to 
her  what  he  wished  me  to,  but  the  words  would  not 
come,  and  when  we  joined  the  other  guests  I  knew  that 
I  would  never  speak  to  her. 

u  As  soon  as  I  could,  I  excused  myself  from  the  com 
pany,  saying  that  I  wished  to  speak  to  one  of  the 

66 


MR.    LAWRENCE    SEES    HIS    MAN 

tenants,  and  going  over  to  the  group  of  Cajuns  I  spoke 
to  old  Hypolite,  my  father's  head  plowman. 

"  *  Everyone  is  having  a  good  time/  I  said  to  him. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  he,  *  and  we  all  have  you  to  thank, 
M'sieu,  for  our  pleasure.  Had  you  not  come  home 
from  school  there  would  have  been  no  celebration/ 

"  t  There  are  many  strange  faces  here  to-night,'  said 
I.  '  I  should  like  to  meet  some  of  the  visitors  and  give 
them  welcome,'  and  I  began  to  ask  him  the  names  of 
those  about  me,  until  finally  I  pointed  to  the  girl. 

"  When  I  asked  of  her,  he  frowned. 

"  *  That  is  the  daughter  of  old  Edmond  Varain,' 
said  he.  *  She  had  been  visiting  on  M'sieu  Lowry's 
plantation,  and  came  over  here  with  her  friend.  She 
should  not  have  come.  Her  father  would  be  furious 
did  he  know  of  it.  I  also  think  that  Major  Lawrence 
would  be  displeased  did  he  know  that  she  was  here.' 

"  Now  when  old  Hypolite  told  me  this,  my  heart 
sank,  for  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  everything  was 
going  against  me.  Years  ago  Edmond  Varain  had 
worked  for  my  father,  had  been  his  overseer  and  right- 
hand  man.  But  one  day  there  had  been  a  quarrel 
between  them,  and  Varain  had  left  Lawrence  Hall 
cursing  my  father  and  threatening  vengeance.  He 
even  threatened  to  kill  my  father,  but  after  a  time  he 
left  our  parish,  and  opened  a  store  near  Mouton. 
My  father  never  heard  from  him  after  he  left 
Lawrence  Hall,  but  the  news  came  to  us  that  he  had 
made  a  good  deal  of  money  out  of  his  business  and 
was  well  off. 

"  So  you  can  understand  how  I  felt  when  old  Hypo- 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

lite  told  me  that  this  beautiful  girl  was  the  daughter  of 
my  father's  enemy. 

"  I  went  around  meeting  the  different  visitors,  old 
Hypolite  introducing  me  with  as  much  ceremony  as  if 
I  had  been  a  king,  until  we  came  to  the  girl.  Hypolite 
wished  to  pass  her  by,  but  I  made  him  stop  and  intro 
duce  me,  much  against  his  will,  and  it  was  then,  in  the 
light  of  the  fire,  with  the  dancing,  singing  negroes  all 
about  us,  that  I  met  Aline  Varain,  the  woman  who  was 
afterward  my  wife." 

Again  Lawrence  paused  for  breath,  while  Father 
Martain  gazed  at  him  in  amazement. 


68 


CHAPTER    VIII 

A    FLAG    IS    RAISED   AT    LANDRY 

AD  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  father  of 
your  dead  wife  is  Monsieur  Varain,  the  owner 
of  the  big  store  in  Mouton?"  asked  Father 
Martain,  when  he  had  recovered  from  his  surprise. 

"  I  do,"  answered  Lawrence,  "  and  I  hear  that  he  is 
now  a  very  rich  man." 

Father  Martain  nodded. 

"  Well,  to  go  on  with  my  story,"  said  Lawrence;  "  I 
talked  to  Aline  Varain  for  a  few  moments,  and  when 
I  left  her  I  was  madly  in  love,  so  madly  in  love  that 
I  felt  that  if  I  could  not  have  this  girl  I  would  die. 

"  I  returned  to  the  house  with  the  other  guests,  and 
spent  the  night  walking  the  floor,  the  image  of  Aline 
Varain  ever  before  me.  '  > 

"  The  next  morning  all  of  the  guests  left,  and  Law 
rence  Hall  settled  down  to  its  usual  routine. 

"  No  sooner  had  the  last,  carriage  driven  away 
than  I  ordered  my  horse  and  rode  to  Mr.  Lowry's 
plantation.  I  did  not  know  what  I  would  say  when 
I  met  the  girl;  I  had  no  excuse  to  make,  my  mind  being 
filled  with  one  great  desire — the  desire  to  see  her,  and 
to  see  her  at  once. 

"  When  I  reached  the  house  where  Aline  was  stay 
ing  they  told  me  that  she  had  gone  walking  in  the  woods 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

with  her  friend,  so  to  the  woods  I  went,  where  I  found 
the  girls  gathering  berries.  After  talking  to  them  for 
a  while,  I  sent  the  friend  away  upon  some  pretext,  and 
I  then  had  Aline  alone,  where  I  could  speak  to  her  of 
what  was  in  my  heart. 

"  What  I  said — what  she  said — I  cannot  tell  you. 
It  was  all  like  some  beautiful  dream.  I  was  young, 
romantic,  filled  with  the  joy  of  a  first  love.  She  was 
still  but  a  child,  an  affectionate  child,  of  a  stern,  unlov 
ing  father,  her  whole  being  crying  out  for  love,  her 
heart  starving  for  a  tender  word,  a  caress,  and  in  the 
daylight  I  found  her  more  beautiful  than  she  had  been 
the  night  before. 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  we  loved  one  another  at  the 
end  of  our  brief  meeting? 

"  The  friend  was  taken  into  our  confidence  and 
promised  her  assistance  in  every  way. 

"  When  I  kissed  my  pretty  Aline  and  bade  her 
good-by,  promising  to  see  her  on  the  morrow,  I  felt 
as  though  I  had  left  this  earth  and  was  in  Paradise. 
My  horse  carried  me  home,  his  bridle  dragging  in  the 
dust,  where  I  let  it  stay  in  my  abstraction. 

"  On  reaching  Lawrence  Hall,  my  father  called  me 
into  his  study  and  asked  me  if  I  had  spoken  to  the 
girl  that  he  had  chosen  for  my  wife. 

"  I  was  aghast,  for  in  my  new-found  love  I  had  for 
gotten  all  about  her.  Why  I  lied  to  him  I  do  not 
know,  as  I  could  have  told  him  that  I  did  not  have 
a  good  chance  to  speak  to  her,  but  I  suppose  that  in 
my  confusion  I  forgot  everything,  and  said  the  first 
thing  that  came  into  my  mind,  to  shield  myself. 

70 


A    FLAG    IS    RAISED    AT    LANDRY 

"  I  told  him  that  I  had  proposed  to  her,  and  that 
she  had  refused  me. 

"  My  father  looked  very  sad. 

"  '  It  was  the  one  great  wish  of  my  life,  but  you  did 
all  that  you  could,  my  son,'  said  he.  '  I  thank  you.' 

"  I  left  him,  feeling  the  most  miserable  creature  on 
earth,  and  for  a  moment  I  thought  of  going  to  him 
and  telling  him  the  whole  truth,  but  thoughts  of  Aline 
forbade  me,  and  I  went  instead  to  my  room  to  dream 
of  my  love. 

"  Every  day  I  went  to  meet  Aline,  and  every  day  I 
grew  more  in  love  with  her  and  she  with  me.  So  a 
week  passed,  and  on  the  next  day  Aline  was  obliged  to 
return  home. 

"  Up  to  that  time  I  had  gone  on  loving  this  girl 
regardless  of  the  future,  thinking  only  of  the  happy 
present,  but  now  something  must  be  done,  and  must 
be  done  at  once. 

"  No  hope  could  be  had  from  my  father;  Aline' s 
father  was  more  hopeless  still. 

"  All  morning  we  three  strove  for  some  solution  of 
this  problem,  making  one  plan  only  to  abandon  it  for 
another,  more  useless  then  the  first. 

"  Finally  it  was  time  for  the  girls  to  go,  and  Aline 
was  telling  me,  between  her  sobs,  that  she  would  always 
love  me,  when  the  friend  said  suddenly: 

"  *  I  have  it !  There  is  but  one  way.  You  must 
marry  this  evening.  Your  fathers  may  storm  as  much 
as  they  please,  but  they  cannot  untie  the  knot  that  God 
has  tied.' 

"  We  followed  her  advice,  and  that  evening  we  rode 

71 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

over  to  the  town,  where  we  were  married  in  the  little 
church,  the  friend  and  the  priest's  housekeeper  acting 
as  witnesses.  There  in  the  little  church,  with  its  rows 
of  empty  pews  staring  at  us,  as  though  in  mockery,  with 
the  friend  praying  for  us  while  the  gentle  old  priest 
mumbled  through  the  service,  I  married  Aline  Varain. 
Married  the  daughter  of  my  father's  enemy,  of  my 
father's  overseer,  a  girl  far  below  me  in  station,  bring 
ing  naught  with  her  but  her  father's  curse — married 
her  though  it  cost  me  my  heritage,  and  there  has  never 
been  a  moment  in  my  life  when  I  have  regretted  it !  If 
ever  there  has  been  a  saint  on  earth,  that  saint  was  my 
Aline.  In  the  long,  sad  days  that  followed,  days  of 
darkness  without  a  single  gleam  of  hope,  she  was  my 
only  comfort.  Aline  she  was  called,  angel  she  was, 
kind  and  loving  always,  with  a  beauty  that  none  could 
match. 

"  After  we  were  married,  we  returned  to  our 
meeting-place  in  the  woods,  where  we  considered 
what  was  to  be  done  next.  The  priest  had  been 
warned  about  speaking  of  the  wedding,  and  the  house 
keeper  did  not  know  us,  so  for  the  present  our  secret 
was  safe. 

"  After  talking  long  and  earnestly,  we  decided  that 
the  wedding  should  be  kept  quiet  for  the  present,  and 
that  Aline  should  return  home  in  the  morning  as  she 
had  intended  doing.  I  was  to  stay  at  Lawrence  Hall 
and  arrange  my  affairs  before  speaking  to  my  father, 
so  that  when  the  crash  came  we  would  not  be  left 
destitute. 

"  So  I  kissed  my  weeping  bride,  and  started  for 

72 


A    FLAG    IS    RAISED    AT    LANDRY 

home,  my  heart  heavy  within  me,  my  grief  at  leaving 
my  newly  made  wife  almost  more  than  I  could  bear. 

"  My  father  met  me  upon  the  front  porch,  his  face 
white  with  anger,  and  called  me  to  come  to  his  study 
at  once. 

"  When  I  entered  the  room,  I  found  him  at  his 
desk,  a  letter  before  him,  and  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
rage  he  read  it  to  me.  It  was  from  his  friend,  whose 
daughter  he  wished  me  to  marry,  and  in  it  the  writer 
said  that  on  receiving  my  father's  letter,  containing  his 
news  of  the  refusal  of  my  offer  of  marriage,  he  had 
spoken  to  his  daughter,  asking  for  an  explanation.  She 
had  told  him  that  there  had  been  no  proposal  made, 
and  he  wished  an  explanation  of  the  matter  immediately. 

"  '  And  now,  sir,'  said  my  father,  when  he  had  fin 
ished  the  letter,  '  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?  ' 

"  I  was  dumfounded.  I  saw  that  concealment  would 
now  be  impossible.  I  told  him  of  my  intention  of  keep 
ing  my  promise,  of  my  meeting  with  Aline  Varain,  of 
my  love  for  her,  of  my  marriage.  I  told  him  the  whole 
story  and  begged  his  pardon — begged  for  forgiveness, 
kneeling  at  the  foot  of  his  chair. 

"  When  I  had  finished,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  his  face 
white  as  death,  his  whole  body  shaking  as  with  a  palsy. 
'Go!'  said  he,  pointing  his  trembling  finger  at 
the  door.  *  Go !  and  never  let  me  hear  of  you  again. 
Never  let  me  see  you  again  in  life,  or  in  death.  You 
have  disgraced  your  name,  and  you  have  broken  your 
father's  heart.  For  these  things  I  might  forgive  you, 
but  you  have  lied  to  me  also.  That  I  can  never  for 
give.  Now  go,  and  never  let  me  see  your  face  again.' 

73 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  I  passed  through  the  door  at  which  he  pointed,  my 
heart  full  of  bitterness,  but  never  a  word  did  I  answer. 
I  loved  my  father,  even  as  I  love  him  now,  and  I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  speak  to  him  in  anger. 

"  Slowly  I  went  to  my  room  and  packed  what  few 
things  I  could  carry  on  my  horse.  As  I  came  down  the 
stairway  I  met  my  brother,  and  to  him  I  poured  out  my 
troubles,  knowing  that  I  would  receive  sympathy.  We 
loved  each  other  dearly,  and  when  I  told  him  what 
had  happened  he  cried  like  a  child.  He  insisted  on  my 
taking  what  money  he  had,  and  before  I  left  he  slipped 
it  into  my  pocket. 

"  He  walked  with  me  to  the  plantation  gate,  where, 
blinded  by  tears,  I  shook  his  hand  and  rode  away. 
Thus  I  left  Lawrence  Hall,  the  place  that  had  been 
my  home  all  my  life,  the  place  where  my  people  have 
lived  and  died  for  generations.  I  have  never  been 
back. 

"  And  so  I  rode  away,  and  found  my  young  wife, 
who  tried  to  comfort  me,  and  then,  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  the  problem  of  living  confronted  me.  There 
was  I,  a  young  man  of  twenty-four,  the  spoiled  child 
of  a  rich  father,  thrown  into  the  world  to  fight  for 
existence  with  but  a  small  sum  between  myself  and 
starvation.  Added  to  this  was  my  complete  igno 
rance  of  any  way  in  which  to  make  a  living.  Can 
you  wonder  that  I  was  aghast  at  the  prospect  of  the 
future  ? 

"  We  went  to  New  Orleans  where,  after  a  while,  I 
secured  a  position  as  a  clerk.  It  was  there  that  my 
little  girl  was  born,  and  I  called  her  Aline  after  her 

74 


A    FLAG    IS   RAISED    AT   LANDRY 

mother.  We  lived  in  the  city  for  a  time  and  my  wife 
began  to  fade  away  day  by  day.  The  doctors  could 
do  nothing  for  her  they  said. 

"  Finally  one  physician,  the  greatest  in  the  city,  told 
me  that  to  save  her  life  I  must  take  her  to  the  country, 
not  for  a  visit,  but  to  live  there.  A  friend  of  mine  in 
the  city  owned  the  place  near  Landry  where  I  am  liv 
ing  now,  and  he  offered  it  to  me  on  yearly  payments. 
Having  a  little  money  put  away,  I  bought  it,  paying 
for  the  first  year.  My  wife  was  very  sick  at  the  time, 
too  sick  I  thought  to  be  moved,  but  she  insisted  upon 
going  away,  so  the  final  arrangements  were  made,  the 
furniture  was  packed,  and  we  started  for  Mouton. 

"  Half  way  there,  she  became  so  ill  that  we  were 
obliged  to  stop  at  a  little  town  on  the  road.  I  took 
her  to  a  hotel  and  the  doctors  came,  but  they  could  do 
nothing.  She  died  that  night — died  in  the  shabby 
hotel,  amid  the  singing  and  laughing  of  a  drunken 
crowd  of  vagabonds  who  were  making  merry  in  the 
bar  beneath  her  room. 

"  So  she  whom  I  met  amid  laughter  and  song,  died 
amid  laughter  and  song,  and  the  last  words  that  she 
spoke  to  me  were  the  words  of  love  that  she  greeted 
me  with  when  first  I  met  her." 

Here  Lawrence  bowed  his  head  upon  the  table,  and 
for  a  while  all  was  silent  in  the  little  garden. 

"  There  is  little  more  to  tell,"  said  he  finally,  lifting 
his  haggard  face  from  his  arm.  "  I  buried  my  Aline 
in  the  graveyard  back  of  the  town,  and  taking  the  child 
came  on  to  Landry.  I  reached  Mouton  as  one  crazed, 
my  chief  desire  being  to  reach  my  place,  where,  away 

75 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

from  all  men,  I  could  mourn  for  my  lost  one.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  arrived,  and  although  a 
storm  was  brewing  I  set  out  at  once  for  my  place.  Of 
my  arrival  here  I  will  not  speak,  as  I  feel  sure  that 
our  curious  friend,  Mr.  Landry,  has  saved  me  the 
trouble. 

"  So  I  have  lived  here  alone  and  friendless  for  three 
years,  working  day  and  night  to  pay  for  my  place,  and 
I  have  not  prospered.  My  crops  have  been  bad,  and 
last  year's  money  was  not  paid.  I  have  another  year 
of  grace,  and  if  this  crop  is  a  failure  I  will  lose  every 
thing. 

'  Therefore,  you  can  understand  that  I  have  been 
worried  about  my  child,  especially  at  this  time  when 
there  is  fever  in  Mouton.  She  is  all  that  I  have,  and 
she  is  very  dear  to  me.  Without  me  she  would  be 
left  alone,  the  place  would  go,  and  I  cannot  bear  to 
think  of  it. 

"A  week  ago  I  swallowed  my  pride  and  wrote  to 
my  father  for  the  first  time,  asking  him  to  help  the 
child  in  case  of  my  death.  The  letter  came  back  to  me 
to-day  unopened. 

"  I  could  write  to  my  brother  and  he  would  help  me, 
but  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do  it,  for  it  would  cause 
a  breach  between  him  and  my  father. 

"  So  in  my  trouble  I  have  come  to  you,  Father  Mar- 
tain,  and  I  ask  you  to  take  care  of  the  child  if  it  is 
necessary,  to  look  after  her,  and  to  bring  her  up  in  her 
mother's  religion,  which  is  your  own.  She  is  well-born, 
and  should  be  raised  a  lady,  not  as  the  waif  that  she 
must  be  if  she  has  no  one  to  help  her  through  her 


A    FLAG    IS    RAISED    AT    LANDRY 

childhood.  Will  you  take  this  child  into  your 
keeping?  " 

Father  Martain  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand  across 
the  table. 

"  You  can  depend  upon  me  to  do  it,"  answered  he, 
and  the  two  men  clasped  hands  silently. 

"  And  now  you  have  my  wretched  story,"  said  Law 
rence  "  It  is  a  sad  one,  without  a  gleam  of  light  in 
it,  and  I  hope  that  it  did  not  tire  you." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  good  priest  softly; 
"  there  was  a  gleam  of  light  in  it.  The  whole  story 
shone  with  a  good,  pure  love,  which  made  it  very 
beautiful  to  me.  And  Monsieur  Varain?  You  did  not 
tell  me  of  him.  Why  do  you  not  write,  or  go  to  him, 
for  the  little  girl's  sake?  He  is  rich  and  can  help 
you." 

Lawrence's  face  grew  dark. 

"  My  wife  wrote  to  him  asking  his  forgiveness,  soon 
after  our  marriage,"  answered  he.  "  How  any  human 
being  could  have  written  the  letter  that  he  sent  in  reply, 
I  cannot  imagine.  Had  you  seen  the  letter,  you  would 
not  have  asked  that  question." 

u  I  am  sorry;  I  did  not  know,"  said  Father  Martain. 
"  And  the  girl  that  your  father  wished  you  to  marry, 
what  of  her?  " 

"  My  brother  married  her  the  year  after  I  left 
home,"  answered  Lawrence.  "  They  have  one  child, 
a  girl,  who  is  two  years  younger  than  my  little  one. 
And  there  is  one  thing  more  that  I  wish  to  tell  you  of. 
To-day  I  hung  upon  my  little  girl's  neck,  by  a  chain,  a 
ring,  which  has  my  family  crest  upon  it.  My  brother 

77 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

has  one  like  it,  so  much  like  it  that  you  can  hardly  tell 
the  two  apart.  Should  my  father  relent  and  wish  to 
take  the  child,  you  could  prove  her  identity  by  this  ring, 
were  I  not  alive  to  do  so.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Father  Martain,  "  I  do  under 
stand." 

Lawrence  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  must  be  going  now,"  said  he,  "  and  I  thank  you 
more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

The  good  priest  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  glad  to  be  of 
service  to  you.  I  trust  that  you  may  live  a  long  life, 
and  that  the  fever  will  not  come  to  Landry,  but  should 
my  services  be  necessary,  you  may  rest  assured  that  the 
child  will  want  for  nothing  while  I  am  alive." 

He  went  down  the  narrow,  brick  walk  with  his  vis 
itor  and  watched  him  ride  away. 

"  Poor  man,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  his  life  has  been 
a  hard  one."  And  as  he  leaned  upon  his  little  gate 
watching  the  departing  Lawrence,  his  mind  went  back 
to  France — to  the  Paris  that  he  loved. 

He  thought  of  a  girl  who  had  been  there  many 
years  ago.  A  girl  whom  he  had  loved,  a  girl  who,  if 
she  had  lived,  might  have  been 

Father  Martain  brushed  his  hand  across  his  eyes, 
and  raising  his  head,  looked  about  him. 

In  the  west  the  sun  was  setting  in  a  mass  of  fire 
behind  the  Grand  Woods.  Dark  and  grim  rose  the 
trees,  their  tops  radiant  with  the  fast-fading  light.  The 
great  stack  of  the  sugar  house  at  Belrive  was  gilded 
also  by  this  light,  as  it  rose  tall  and  silent,  like  some 

78 


A    FLAG    IS   RAISED    AT    LANDRY 

huge  sentinel,  guarding  the  broad  acres  and  many 
buildings  of  Colonel  Gordon. 

A  little  breeze  had  sprung  up  from  the  east,  and  the 
oaks  in  the  grove  before  him  rustled  softly.  Across 
from  the  blacksmith  shop  came  the  clang  of  iron,  tell 
ing  that  the  blacksmith  had  finished  his  nap. 

But  for  this  noise,  the  little  town  of  Landry  was 
silent.  It  seemed  to  sleep  in  the  soft  evening  glow. 

Monsieur  Landry  came  out  upon  his  porch  and  be 
gan  to  nail  something  to  one  of  the  posts  that  supported 
its  roof. 

Father  Martain  watched  him  idly,  for  he  could  not 
see  what  was  being  nailed  up,  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
storekeeper  hiding  it  from  sight.  He  wondered  what 
it  was. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  new  postoffice  sign,"  said  he  to 
himself. 

Monsieur  Landry  finished  his  nailing  and  walked 
into  the  store.  Father  Martain  leaned  over  the  gate  to 
get  a  better  view. 

On  the  post  a  little  flag  which  the  storekeeper  had 
put  there  caught  the  breeze  and  stood  out  stiff  and 
straight. 

It  was  a  brilliant  orange. 

Father  Martain  fell  upon  his  knees  on  the  narrow 
brick  walk,  his  eyes  uplifted  in  prayer. 

"  Dieu  vous  sauve"  said  he. 


79 


CHAPTER    IX 

FATHER   MARTAIN    MAKES    A    JOURNEY 

FOR  four  months  the  fever  had  raged  in  and  about 
the  little  town  of  Landry;  for  four  long,  horrible 
months  it  had  seared  the  minds  of  all  with  ter 
ror;  and  now  it  had  passed  on,  leaving  in  its  wake 
a  long  train  of  death  and  desolation   and  the  many 
stricken  ones,  who  were  to  live  or  die  as  best  they  might. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  place  had  there  been 
such  a  time.  People  went  mad  with  fear,  laughing  and 
cursing  at  the  destroyer  until,  stricken  like  the  rest, 
they  died  with  a  horrid  smile  upon  their  lips.  Fam 
ilies  left  their  homes,  their  belongings,  and  plunged 
madly  into  the  cool  sanctuary  of  the  Grand  Woods, 
the  sick  ones  that  they  had  deserted  crying  after  them 
for  help,  for  mercy. 

Neighbors  passed  one  another  at  a  great  distance, 
speaking  no  word  of  greeting,  fearful  of  contagion. 
Fathers  deserted  their  families,  forgetting  all  in  their 
mad  rush  for  safety,  leaving  behind  the  mothers,  who 
nursed  and  prayed,  and  fought  the  destroyer  with  a 
bravery  to  be  marveled  at  by  heroes — fought  through 
the  long,  hot  days;  ever  tender,  ever  fearless,  faithful 
unto  death.  It  was  a  time  of  fear,  of  madness,  never 
to  be  forgotten,  to  be  spoken  of  in  days  to  come  with 
lowered  voice. 

80 


FATHER    MARTAIN    MAKES    A    JOURNEY 

And  through  these  four  months  of  frenzy,  of 
destruction,  the  good  Father  Martain  had  gone  about, 
nursing  and  praying,  burying  the  dead,  and  comforting 
the  living.  Through  these  long  days  of  darkness  he 
had  been  the  one  gleam  of  light,  the  one  ray  of  hope, 
striving  amid  the  danger  with  a  fearlessness  born  of 
virtue,  leaving  behind  him  words  of  hope,  of  comfort, 
of  better  days  to  come.  Where  the  fever  raged  most 
fiercely,  there  would  be  the  good  priest,  his  soft  voice 
calming  the  terrors  of  the  living,  praying  for  the  souls 
of  the  dead. 

And  now  the  fever  had  passed,  and  the  people  were 
more  hopeful.  Father  Martain's  work  was  done,  and 
in  the  little  room,  whose  window  looked  out  upon  the 
church,  he  lay  dying — dying  of  the  fever  that  for  the 
past  four  months  he  had  fought  with  all  his  heart,  with 
all  his  soul,  and  with  all  his  strength. 

Early  that  morning  Doctor  Lemaire,  worn  to  the 
white  shadow  of  a  man,  had  come  out  of  the  house; 
his  face  set,  his  voice  trembling. 

"  There  is  no  hope ;  he  cannot  live  through  the  day," 
he  had  said  to  the  little  group  of  watchers  at  the  gate, 
and  two  large  tears  had  fallen  upon  his  coat  sleeve  as 
he  shook  the  hand  of  Monsieur  Landry. 

Monsieur  Landry  had  turned  away  his  head,  weeping 
softly.  He,  too,  was  white  and  thin,  and  so  changed 
that  one  would  have  hardly  known  him  for  the  jovial 
storekeeper  of  four  months  before.  All  through  the 
long  siege  he  had  fought  bravely,  sending  his  wife  away 
to  safety,  burying  his  boy  Adrien,  who  had  died,  nurs 
ing  his  boy  Octave,  who  had  lived,  tending  the  good 

81 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

priest  when  he  had  been  stricken,  with  a  devotion  that 
was  tireless. 

Softly  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  the  boy  Octave, 
who  had  served  at  the  altar,  tugged  the  doctor's  coat. 

"  Shall  I  ring  the  bell,  M'sieu  Le  Doctaire,  and  let 
the  people  know  that  le  Pere  Martain  will  not  live 
to-day?  "  he  had  asked. 

Doctor  Lemaire  had  nodded  his  head,  and  the  boy 
had  entered  the  church,  sobbing  as  though  his  heart 
would  break. 

So  all  morning  the  bell  had  tolled  its  news  of  sorrow, 
the  harsh  sound  of  the  broken  metal  going  out  over  the 
fields,  calling  the  people  to  Landry  as  it  had  called  them 
from  time  immemorial;  calling  them  to  the  little  red 
church  where  they  had  been  christened,  where  they  had 
been  married,  from  which  they  would  be  buried;  calling 
them  to  the  side  of  him  who  had  been  their  friend, 
their  helper,  the  one  who  had  cheered  them  when  they 
were  sad,  rejoiced  with  them  when  they  were  happy. 

All  morning  long  they  came,  riding  their  horses, 
driving  their  carts,  some  walking  along  the  dusty  road, 
all  bent  upon  one  errand,  all  filled  with  sorrow,  calling 
upon  God  to  spare  their  loved  one.  They  thronged  the 
little  house,  they  trampled  the  little  garden;  and  those 
unable  to  get  inside  of  either  waited  patiently  in  the 
road,  or  prayed  within  the  church.  Men  who  had 
rushed  madly  from  their  homes  a  week  before,  terror- 
stricken  at  the  fever,  fought  for  admission  to  the  little 
house  with  its  yellow  flag  drooping  idly  in  the  heat. 
Women  wept  as  sorrowfully  for  this  old  priest  as 
they  had  for  the  loss  of  their  sons  and  daughters. 

82 


FATHER    MARTAIN    MAKES    A    JOURNEY 

On  the  front  porch  Monsieur  Landry  argued  with 
the  throng  as  best  he  could. 

"  Do  not  come  in !  "  cried  he  fiercely,  the  tears 
streaming  down  his  cheeks.  "  Do  you  not  know  that 
there  is  fever  inside?  Do  you  wish  to  all  catch  it  and 
have  another  epidemic?  " 

But  the  people  did  not  heed  him.  One  tall,  gaunt 
man,  on  whose  grizzled  beard  the  tears  glistened, 
answered  him  harshly: 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  God  would  send  us  fever 
through  His  priest?  Do  you  think  that  our  good  Pere 
Martain  would  harm  us?  "  said  he,  and  passed  on  into 
the  house. 

Within  the  little  room  that  had  been  his  home  for 
so  many  years  lay  Father  Martain,  his  soft  voice, 
which  had  comforted  so  many,  speaking  to  his  children 
for  the  last  time.  On  the  hard,  narrow  bed  he  lay,  his 
white  hair  falling  about  the  thin  yellow  face,  his  blue 
eyes  sparkling  from  the  fever  within  him. 

Monsieur  Landry  pushed  his  way  through  the  throng 
of  weeping  men  and  women  that  crowded  the  little 
room,  and  approached  the  bedside.  He  reeled  and 
swayed  as  he  walked,  like  a  drunken  man,  his  eyes 
gleaming  with  a  strange  light. 

Father  Martain  smiled  as  he  saw  him,  and  held  out 
his  hand  weakly  from  the  covering  of  the  bed. 

"  It  is  almost  time  to  say  farewell,"  said  he. 

Monsieur  Landry  fell  upon  his  knees  at  the  bedside; 
a  woman,  grown  hysterical,  shrieked,  and  was  taken 
from  the  room. 

"  Nay,   do   not   cry,    my   children,"    said   the   good 

83 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

priest.  "  It  is  the  will  of  the  good  God,  and  who  shall 
judge  His  wishes?  Do  not  weep  for  me — there  is  no 
need.  I  am  going  to  make  a  journey,  that  is  all.  I  go 
to  my  reward,  to  happiness.  You  should  be  glad,  and 
yet — my  children  it  is  hard  to  leave  you;  I  love  you 
so.  I  have  known  you  from  childhood.  Many  of  you 
I  have  baptized,  I  have  married;  and  I  have  baptized 
many  of  your  children. 

"  And  you,  my  old  friend,  my  old  comrade,"  said 
the  dying  man,  holding  the  storekeeper's  hand  more 
tightly,  "  it  is  very  hard  to  leave  you.  You  have  nursed 
me  so  carefully,  so  faithfully,  I  thank  you.  But  your 
hand  is  cold  as  death;  are  you,  too,  ill  of  the  fever,  my 
old  friend?  The  good  God  forbid  it." 

"  It  is  nothing,  mon  Pere"  said  Monsieur  Landry 
brokenly.  "  I  am  weak  and  nervous,  that  is  all." 

A  little  old  man,  his  worn  clothes  caked  with  the  dirt 
of  the  fields,  pushed  through  the  crowd,  and  knelt  near 
the  bed.  He  had  left  his  plow  in  the  furrow  at  the 
tolling  of  the  bell,  and  had  walked  into  Landry,  count 
ing  as  nothing  his  age,  the  dust  and  the  sun.  Kneeling 
alone,  his  weather-beaten  cheeks  wet  with  tears,  his 
trembling  hands  outstretched  toward  the  priest,  he 
raised  his  voice  in  entreaty. 

"  Bless  your  children,  mon  Peref"  he  cried;  "bless 
us  for  the  last  time.  Call  upon  the  good  God  to  help 
us,  to  protect  us,  for  when  you  are  gone,  who  will 
help  us?" 

Father  Martain  made  a  movement  to  raise  himself. 
In  a  moment  the  arm  of  Monsieur  Landry  was  about 
him,  supporting  the  helpless  form. 

84 


FATHER    MARTAIN    MAKES    A    JOURNEY 

Down  upon  their  knees  fell  the  watchers,  their  heads 
bowed  low. 

Through  the  window  a  ray  of  sunshine,  entering  the 
room,  shone  about  the  head  of  the  good  priest  like  a 
halo.  Outside  a  bird  lifted  its  voice  in  song,  the  clear 
notes  rising  in  the  silence,  thrilling  with  happiness,  with 
the  pure  joy  of  living.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the 
scent  of  flowers,  with  the  strong,  rich  odor  of  the 
autumn  fields.  From  the  room  came  a  sound  of  stifled 
sobbing. 

Father  Martain  raised  his  voice  in  benediction,  plac 
ing  his  children  in  the  care  of  God — the  God  to  whom 
he  was  soon  to  go — the  words  falling  to  a  whisper  as 
he  finished. 

Slowly  Monsieur  Landry  laid  back  the  feeble  frame 
upon  the  bed,  and  bent  low  to  catch  the  words  of  the 
dying  man.  Leaving  the  bedside,  he  sought  for  some 
thing  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

The  watchers  whispered  to  one  another. 

"  The  good  Father  asks  for  something,"  said  they. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  a  holy  relic  that  will  soothe  his  dying 


moments." 


Out  from  the  corner  came  Monsieur  Landry,  and 
staggered  toward  the  bed.  Gently  he  placed  upon  it 
what  he  had  brought  with  him  and  then,  with  one 
great  gasp,  he  fell  to  the  floor,  his  body  shaking  con 
vulsively. 

The  watchers  craned  forward,  curious  to  see  what 
he  had  brought,  curious  to  know  why  he  had  fallen. 

The  good  priest  lay  back  upon  the  pillows  very  still, 
the  halo  of  sunlight  shining  brightly  about  him.  His 

85 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

eyes  were  closed,  and  upon  his  lips  there  was  a  smile 
as  of  a  great  happiness.  Clasped  in  his  hands  there 
was  an  old  hat,  a  dark  spot  amid  the  white  expanse  of 
covering. 

Once  more  the  watchers  fell  upon  their  knees,  their 
cries  rising  upon  the  still  air  as  a  dirge — an  anthem  for 
the  dead. 

Father  Martain  had  made  his  journey. 


CHAPTER    X 

OLD   TELESSE    MAKES   A    PROMISE 

IN  a  room  of  an  old  white  house  near  Landry, 
another  man  lay  dying,  fighting  for  his  life  with 
all  his  strength,  crying  out  to  God  to  spare  him. 

No  throng  of  friends,  of  well-wishers,  crowded  the 
room  in  which  he  lay.  One  man  alone  tended  him, 
nursing  him  with  a  faithfulness  that  was  untiring. 

No  cries  of  grief  sounded  within  the  room.  The  one 
who  nursed  him  sitting  by  the  bed  in  solemn  silence, 
his  face  expressionless.  If  there  was  sorrow  within  him, 
he  made  no  sign. 

Through  the  open  window  came  the  tolling  of  the 
bell  at  Landry,  the  harsh  sound  rudely  breaking  the 
stillness  of  the  autumn  afternoon.  The  sick  man  turned 
uneasily  upon  his  bed. 

"  Telesse,  are  you  there?"  he  asked. 

The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair  and  bent  over  him. 

"  I  am  here,  M'sieu,"  answered  he. 

"  That  bell,"  said  Lawrence  fretfully,  "  why  has  it 
rung  all  morning?  Why  is  it  ringing  now?  It  annoys 


me." 


"  They  are  ringing  for  the  good  Father  Martain," 
said  the  old  man.     "  He  is  dying  to-day  of  the  fever." 

"  And  is  there  no  chance  for  him?  "  asked  Lawrence. 
"  Might  he  not  get  well?  " 

87 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  There  is  no  hope,"  answered  the  old  man.  "  As 
I  told  you,  he  is  dying.  Le  Doctaire  Lemaire  has  said 
that  he  cannot  live  through  the  day." 

The  sick  man  sighed  wearily. 

"  My  one  chance  gone,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  The 
man  upon  whose  help  I  counted  dying — dying  like 
myself  of  this  fever.  So  this  is  the  end  of  it  all,  and 
here  I  am  to  die  like  a  rat  in  a  hole,  alone  and  friend 
less,  my  own  child  denied  me.  It  is  too  much !  I  can 
not  die !  I  will  not  die !  God  will  let  me  live  for  the 
child's  sake,  for  my  little  Aline's  sake." 

Slowly  and  painfully  he  raised  himself  from  the 
bed,  his  eyes  shining  wildly,  great  beads  of  perspiration 
upon  his  brow — the  dew  of  anguish. 

"  Telesse !  "  he  called. 

"  Oui,  M'sieu?"  came  the  answer. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  sick  man,  "  the  doctor  has  said 
that  I  will  die,  has  he  not?  " 

"  So  he  has  said,  M'sieu,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  The  doctor  is  wrong!"  cried  Lawrence,  "I  am 
not  going  to  die;  I  shall  live.  The  cane  must  be  cut, 
must  be  sold,  and  who  shall  do  it  but  I?  Who  shall 
care  for  Aline,  my  Aline,  but  I  ?  Who  shall  bring  her 
up;  who  shall  teach  her  to  be  a  lady,  the  lady  that  she 
is?  Who,  I  say,  shall  do  all  this  but  I?  Bring  me  my 
clothes,  Telesse,  for  I  am  going  out  to  the  field  to  my 
work.  I  will  not  lie  here  and  die  like  a  dog,  helpless 
and  alone." 

"Mais,  M'sieu!"  cried  the  old  man,  "  le  Doctaire 
Lemaire " 

"  Le  Doctaire  Lemaire  lies  when  he  says  that  I  am 

88 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES   A   PROMISE 

going  to  die!  "  cried  the  sick  man,  his  voice  rising  to  a 
shriek.  "  Bring  me  my  clothes,  do  you  hear?  Bring 
them  quickly.  It  is  late,  and  I  must  be  out  before  the 


sun  sets." 


Slowly  the  old  man  left  the  bedside,  muttering  to 
himself. 

"  He  is  crazy,"  said  he.  "  It  is  the  fever.  I  have 
seen  it  before,  and  I  will  please  him." 

The  sick  man  fell  back  upon  the  pillows  gasping. 
Telesse  hurried  to  the  bedside. 

"  M'sieu,  M'sieu,  what  have  you  done?  "  cried  he. 

"  It  is  no  use,"  said  Lawrence  weakly.  "  The  doc 
tor  is  right,  I  am  going  to  die.  Thank  you,  Telesse; 
you  have  been  a  good  and  faithful  servant." 

"  It  is  nothing,  M'sieu,"  said  the  old  man,  and  into 
his  stolid  face  there  came  a  look  of  sorrow.  He 
brushed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  quickly,  stealthily,  as 
though  ashamed  of  the  deed. 

"  It  is  something,"  said  the  sick  man,  "  and  you 
know  it.  When  the  people  on  this  place  fled  in  terror 
of  the  fever,  you  alone  stayed  behind  to  care  for  me, 
to  nurse  me.  You  stayed  and  risked  your  life  to  save 
mine.  Do  you  call  that  nothing?  For  three  days  you 
have  not  slept,  you  have  scarcely  tasted  food.  Do  you 
call  that  nothing?  Listen,  for  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
something.  Long  years  ago,  before  you  knew  me,  I 
was  a  rich  man.  I  had  many  servants,  and  I  owned 
many  arpents  of  land,  more  land  even  than  the  Colonel 
Gordon.  Everything  that  I  wanted  I  had,  and  now, 
Telesse,  where  are  all  the  servants?  Where  is  all  the 
land?  Gone,  all  gone,  and  as  I  lie  here  dying,  there 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

is  only  you.  Of  all  the  many,  you  alone  are  left.  Now 
do  you  not  see  how  much  I  think  of  what  you  have  done 
forme?" 

"  It  is  nothing,  M'sieu,"  repeated  the  old  man.  "  If 
you  are  pleased  with  what  I  have  done,  I  am  glad,  but 
I  have  done  nothing." 

"And  Aline?"  asked  Lawrence,  for  the  hundredth 
time  that  day,  "  she  is  safe?  " 

"  She  is  in  my  cabin,"  answered  the  old  man,  "  and 
the  colored  girl,  Cecile,  is  with  her.  She  has  not  been 
in  the  house,  and  there  has  been  no  danger." 

"  Telesse,  give  me  your  hand,"  said  his  master. 

Fearfully  the  old  man  held  it  out,  his  face  awe 
struck,  as  though  some  great  honor  was  to  be  bestowed 
upon  him. 

"  Listen,  Telesse,"  said  Lawrence.  u  I  want  you  to 
promise  me  something.  Remember  that  you  are  prom 
ising  a  dying  man  and  that  your  promise  is  sacred. 
When  I  am  dead  there  will  be  no  one  to  care  for 
the  child  but  yourself,  and  I  leave  her  in  your  charge. 
Promise  me  that  you  will  care  for  her  so  long  as  you 
live,  that  you  will  look  out  for  her  as  though  she  were 
your  own  child." 

"  I  promise  you,  M'sieu''  said  the  old  man  simply. 

"  The  crop,"  continued  his  master,  u  I  give  to  you. 
You  must  sell  it  and  pay  for  the  place.  A  man  will 
come  for  the  money.  If  there  is  anything  left,  you 
must  save  it  for  the  child.  Send  the  little  one  to  school, 
to  church,  and  there  is  one  thing  above  all  that  you  must 
remember.  Aline  is  a  pretty  child,  and  she  will  be  a 
handsome  woman.  Living  with  you,  your  friends,  your 

90 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES   A   PROMISE 

people,  must  see  her.  The  young  men  will  wish  to 
marry  her.  Promise  me  that  you  will  never  let  one  of 
your  people  marry  her,  that  you  will  keep  her  from  all 
save  those  of  her  own  station,  for  I  swear  to  you  that 
she  is  a  lady.  Promise  me  upon  your  knees." 

The  old  man  knelt  at  the  bed. 

"  I  promise,  M'sUu-,"  said  he. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence  in  the  room,  the 
sick  man  tossing  restlessly,  Telesse  sitting  by  the  bed, 
staring  out  in  front  of  him — waiting. 

Through  the  open  window  there  came  finally  the 
sound  of  a  horse  in  the  road  outside.  The  old  man 
crossed  the  room  and  looked  out.  The  man  upon  the 
horse  made  a  sign. 

Slowly  the  old  man  left  the  window  and  seated  him 
self  again  by  the  bedside. 

"  The  good  Father  Martain  is  dead,"  said  he, 
"  Gabbie  has  told  me  so." 

Lawrence  clenched  his  hands  despairingly. 

"  My  hopes  have  died  with  him,"  answered  he. 
"  He  was  a  good  man.  God  rest  his  soul."  And  there 
was  silence  for  a  great  while,  as  the  short,  autumn  after 
noon  drew  near  its  close.  In  the  west  the  sun  was  set 
ting,  smothered  in  masses  of  flame-colored  cloud.  The 
air  grew  cooler,  and  from  a  near-by  coulee  came  the 
hoarse  croaking  of  a  frog — the  herald  of  the  night. 

The  sick  man  gasped  suddenly. 

"  It  is  coming,  Telesse,"  he  cried  faintly.  "  I  am 
going — going — to  die.  See,  the  sun  has  almost  set. 
We  are  going  out  together.  I  am  going  to  see  my 
Aline,  my  wife.  But  the  little  one — ah!  could  I  but 

91 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

see  her  before  I  go.  I  would  give  my  hopes  of  salva 
tion  for  the  sight  of  her  face,  the  sound  of  her  voice." 
His  voice  rang  with  agony,  and  he  buried  his  face  in 
the  covers  sobbing. 

The  old  man  was  thinking  hard,  his  face  wrinkled 
with  perplexity. 

u  There  is  a  way  that  you  could  see  her,  M'sieu," 
said  he  in  a  moment.  "  I  could  close  the  window  and 
Cecile  could  bring  her  there.  She  would  be  outside  and 
safe.  If  I  held  you  up  you  could  see  her  very  well." 

The  face  of  the  sick  man  glowed  with  joy,  with 
expectation. 

"  Telesse,"  said  he,  "  you  have  by  those  words  given 
me  the  joy  of  a  lifetime.  May  God  bless  you.  But 
go  quickly  and  call  Cecile,  there  is  no  time  to  lose;  I 
am  nearly  gone." 

The  old  man  went  quickly  to  the  door  and  called 
until,  from  the  cabin  in  the  back,  came  an  answer. 
Briefly  he  gave  his  order  and  returned  to  the  dying 
man. 

He  lay  huddled  among  the  covers,  quivering  with 
anguish,  his  eyes  blazing  with  the  fire  of  the  fever. 
Toward  the  window  he  gazed  with  all  his  soul,  his  lips 
moving  in  prayer — prayer  for  but  a  few  brief  moments 
of  life  that  he  might  see  the  child. 

Slowly  went  the  minutes,  dragging  like  years  to  his 
agonized  brain.  Through  the  window  there  came  a 
dull  glow  of  red,  the  dying  embers  of  the  sunset.  The 
corners  of  the  room  grew  dark.  Telesse  beat  the  arms 
of  his  chair  impatiently. 

The  shadows  began  to  lengthen,  the  square  of  the 

92 


OLD   TELESSE    MAKES   A   PROMISE 

window  was  now  almost  black  and  the  old  man  rising, 
lit  a  candle. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  noise  outside,  and  at  the  win 
dow  there  appeared  a  black,  grinning  face.  Very  ten 
derly  the  old  man  raised  his  master,  who  lay  back 
against  him,  panting  from  the  exertion. 

The  black  face  grinned  at  the  occupants  of  the  room 
for  an  instant,  and  then  in  its  place  there  came  at  the 
window  the  little  girl.  Very  sweet  and  pretty  she  was 
with  her  face  lit  up  by  the  dying  sunset,  and  at  the 
sight  of  her  father  she  laughed  happily,  waving  her 
little  hand  as  though  in  greeting. 

The  sick  man's  face  was  lit  with  a  smile. 

"  Good-by,  my  daughter,"  said  he.  "  May  God  help 
and  protect  you,  for  I  can  no  longer  do  so." 

The  little  girl  laughed  merrily,  and  waved  at  him  in 
great  glee. 

"  Good-by,  good-by,  father,"  said  she.  "  When  are 
you  coming  back?  " 

For  a  moment  more  father  and  daughter  gazed  at 
one  another,  and  then  the  darkness  fell,  the  square  of 
the  window  went  black;  Cecile  set  the  child  upon  her 
feet. 

The  old  man  laid  his  master  back  upon  the  bed,  and 
for  a  moment  stood  watching,  his  face  set,  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  for  he  thought  him  dead. 

Lawrence  stirred  and  held  out  his  hand  feebly. 

"  And  now  it  is  good-by  to  you,  Telesse,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  I  can  only  thank  you.  I  would  to  God  that 
I  could  repay  you." 

The  old  man  held  the  hand  as  one  holds  a  sacred 

93 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

thing,  and  then,  falling  upon  his  knees,  buried  his  face 
in  the  covers. 

"  Listen,  M'situ,"  said  he,  "  for  there  is  something 
that  you  can  do  for  me  if  you  will." 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  hand  in  his  tightened 
for  an  instant. 

"  It  is  said,  M'sieu"  he  continued,  "  that  if  one  who 
has  sinned  will  tell  his  sin  to  one  about  to  die,  and  if 
that  one,  when  he  sees  God,  will  plead  for  the  sinner, 
the  sin  will  be  forgiven.  Long  years  ago,  a  man  who 
had  killed  another,  fled  to  the  Grand  Woods,  where  he 
hid  for  safety.  For  many  days  we  hunted  him,  and  we 
were  to  know  him,  if  we  found  him,  by  the  red  blouse 
that  he  wore.  One  day  when  I  was  out  hunting  with 
the  boy  Numa's  father,  we  saw  in  the  woods  a  man, 
and  he  wore  a  red  blouse.  I  called  to  him  to  halt,  but 
he  ran  and  so  I  shot  him.  When  we  came  up  to  him 
we  found  that  it  was  not  the  man  we  sought,  and  I  had 
killed  one  of  my  friends.  We  buried  him  where  he  lay, 
and  no  one  knew  what  became  of  him.  Le  Blanc  never 
told,  but  I  have  had  to  give  him  nearly  all  of  my  money 
to  keep  him  silent.  Before  he  died  he  told  the  boy 
Numa.  To  him,  also,  must  I  give  money.  For  years 
I  have  prayed  to  the  good  God  to  forgive  me,  and  now 
will  you  ask  for  my  forgiveness  also?  I  swear  to  you, 
M'sieu,  I  did  not  mean  to  kill  my  friend.  Will  you 
plead  for  me  and  save  my  soul,  M'steuf" 

The  old  man  raised  his  head,  his  eyes  filled  with 
entreaty. 

His  master  smiled,  and  opened  his  lips  as  though  to 
speak.     The  old  man  bent  forward  eagerly. 

94 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES   A   PROMISE 

The  smile  faded,  the  eyes  opened  wide  with  a  great 
resolve.  Swiftly  the  sick  man  raised  himself,  his 
clenched  hands  beating  the  air  wildly,  as  though  he 
fought  some  one. 

"I  will  not — !  "  he  cried,  and  stopped. 

The  old  man's  face  went  white,  and  he  held  out  his 
hands  imploringly. 

"  M'sieu,  M'sieu,  for  God's  sake,  say  yes !  "  he 
gasped  hoarsely. 

"I  will  not — die !  "  said  his  master,  and  fell  back 
limply  among  the  pillows. 

The  old  man  bent  over  him  for  an  instant,  his  hand 
feeling  for  the  heart  that  had  ceased  to  beat.  Slowly 
he  took  the  candle  from  the  shelf  and  set  it  at  the  head 
of  the  bed. 

"Thank  God!  he  did  not  refuse  me,"  said  he,  the 
tears  upon  his  cheeks  glistening  in  the  candle  light. 

Softly  crossing  the  room  he  lit  another  candle  and 
placed  it  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"Thank  God!"  said  he  again,  drawing  his  arm 
across  his  eyes. 

From  inside  his  blouse  he  now  drew  forth  his  most 
treasured  possession,  a  small  wooden  rosary,  worn  black 
from  age  and  much  using.  Softly  he  raised  it  to  his  lips 
and  kissed  it,  as  one  kisses  a  loved  one  at  parting. 

"  May  the  peace  of  God  go  with  you,"  said  he,  as 
he  placed  it  carefully  between  his  master's  fingers. 


The  new  moon  swam  in  a  cloudless  sky  above  the 
little  town  of  Landry,  sending  forth  rays  of  shimmer- 

95 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

ing  light  that  glorified  the  landscape  as  with  a  flood  of 
silver. 

They  fell  upon  the  house  of  Father  Martain,  and 
stealing  through  the  open  window,  rested  softly, 
as  though  in  reverence,  upon  the  one  who  lay  therein. 
They  fell  upon  the  church  where,  amid  the  soft  glow 
of  the  candles,  many  people  prayed  for  the  soul  of  him 
who  had  so  often  prayed  for  theirs. 

They  fell  upon  a  long,  white  house,  that  stood  in  the 
shadow  of  many  trees,  wherein  an  old  man  sat  dry- 
eyed  and  staring,  at  the  bedside  of  his  master,  waiting 
for  the  morning,  and  what  it  might  bring.  They  fell 
upon  a  cabin  where  a  little  girl  laughed  and  clapped 
her  chubby  hands  at  the  antics  of  a  negro  girl,  and 
knew  not  what  had  befallen  her. 

They  fell  upon  the  house  of  Monsieur  Landry, 
wherein  its  owner  writhed  and  shrieked  in  his  delirium, 
the  final  victim  of  the  departed  scourge. 


CHAPTER    XI 

OLD   TELESSE    GOES    HOME 

WITH  the  coming  of  the  busy  grinding  season 
in  November,  came  also  a  stranger  to  Lan- 
dry.  This  stranger  was  none  other  than  the 
Mr.  Parker  from  whom  Lawrence  had  purchased  his 
place. 

He  was  plump  and  contented-looking,  was  this 
stranger,  with  a  very  red  face  and  a  shiny  bald  head. 
That  he  was  not  a  Louisianian  by  birth,  could  also  be 
told  at  a  glance,  and  indeed  he  made  no  pretense  of 
being  one. 

"  I  come  from  good  old  New  England,  but  I  am  a 
naturalized  Louisianian  now,"  he  was  wont  to  say  when 
asked  about  his  birthplace. 

Mr.  Parker  had  come  to  Louisiana  when  still  in  his 
twenties,  and  had  worked  as  a  clerk  in  New  Orleans  for 
many  years.  During  those  years  he  had  been  frugal, 
saving  his  small  income  with  an  object  in  view.  In  his 
work  at  the  office  he  had  heard  much  of  sugar  and  of 
planters,  for  the  business  was  a  commission  one,  and 
gradually  his  thoughts  began  to  center  upon  one  thing 
— a  sugar  plantation. 

It  was  the  dream  of  his  life,  the  goal  which  he  strove 
to  reach,  and  why  not?  Did  not  the  people  all  about 

97 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

him  speak  of  the  planter,  of  his  life,  praising  him  as 
the  backbone  of  the  country?  Mr.  Parker  'had  seen 
them  also,  fine  bronzed  men,  who  came  to  the  office 
in  their  cool  silk  and  linen  clothes,  talking  carelessly 
about  their  crops,  smoking  many  cigars,  drinking  many 
drinks,  and  through  it  all  wearing  an  air  of  amused 
tolerance — an  air  that  a  prince  might  use  among  his 
subjects. 

To  be  like  one  of  these  men  who  seemed  to  have  no 
cares  in  life,  joking  through  a  morning  at  the  office, 
going  out  (with  a  bill  handed  to  the  hall-boy)  to  spend 
an  evening  at  wine  or  at  cards  at  some  club — that  was 
what  Mr.  Parker  longed  for. 

And  so  he  saved  his  earnings  and  waited  for  an 
opportunity  to  buy  a  place. 

One  day  a  customer,  whose  cotton  Mr.  Parker's 
firm  had  sold  for  years,  came  to  the  city. 

Mr.  Parker  saw  him  at  the  office  and  they  talked  of 
land.  The  customer's  name  was  Landry,  and  when  he 
had  left,  Mr.  Parker  had  promised  to  buy  a  place  that 
was  for  sale,  near  the  town  where  this  Mr.  Landry 
lived. 

So  Mr.  Parker  had  his  plantation,  but  not  for  long, 
as  he  sold  it  to  a  friend  whose  wife  must  live  in  the 
country  for  her  health.  He  sold  the  place  on  yearly 
payments,  and  the  man  had  paid  only  for  the  first  year. 
Two  years  had  now  gone  by,  no  payments  had  been 
made,  the  man  to  whom  he  had  sold  the  place  was 
dead,  and  now  Mr.  Parker  set  out  at  last  to  become 
a  planter. 

So  great  was  his  impatience  to  see  his  place  that  the 

98 


OLD    TELESSE    GOES   HOME 

lateness  of  his  arrival  at  Mouton  alone  deterred  him 
from  driving  out  to  it  at  once,  and  the  next  morning 
found  him  at  the  Court  House  a  full  hour  before  it  was 
opened. 

Here,  with  the  assistance  of  Paul  Hebert,  a  deputy 
sheriff,  his  affairs  were  soon  set  in  order,  and  when  that 
gentleman  offered  to  drive  out  to  his  place  with  him 
Mr.  Parker's  gratitude  knew  no  bounds. 

"  I  will  have  to  act  as  interpreter,  anyhow,"  said 
Hebert,  "  for  the  old  man  who  is  at  your  place  won't 
understand  a  word  of  English  when  he  finds  that  you 
have  come  to  run  him  out." 

So,  therefore,  when  a  little  later  he  set  out  with  Paul 
Hebert  toward  Landry,  Mr.  Parker  felt  that  Heaven 
could  not  possibly  compare  with  his  present  position. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  mood  he  began  to  speak 
knowingly  of  his  crop,  his  plantation,  of  the  prospects 
for  a  good  year,  and  all  to  such  good  purpose  that 
before  Mouton  had  been  left  a  mile  behind  him  his 
companion  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  not  only 
was  Mr.  Parker  no  planter,  but  that  he  had  never  been 
on  a  plantation  in  his  life.  However,  as  Mr.  Parker 
did  not  know  of  this  opinion,  he  rattled  away  blithely, 
and  so  they  drove  on  until  the  place  was  in  sight. 

Mr.  Parker  liked  the  long,  white  house  set  among 
the  china  trees.  It  looked  very  comfortable  to  him, 
and  the  more  he  looked,  the  more  comfortable  it  be 
came.  To  one  who  had  been  used  to  the  restricted 
comforts  of  a  boarding  house,  the  size  and  amount  of 
room  in  the  house  before  him  was  bewildering. 

Paul  Hebert  tied  his  horse  near  the  gate,  and  Mr. 

99 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Parker  climbing  out  of  the  buggy,  confronted  him  with 
a  worried  look. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  that  in  my  hurry  I  have 
forgotten  all  about  bringing  out  my  baggage." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  replied  Paul  Hebert. 

*  You  can  come  back  with  me,  and  there  will  be  a  lot 

of  things  that  you  will  have  to  buy  in  town.    You  ought 

to  give  the  old  man  until  to-morrow  morning,  anyway, 

to  get  out." 

Thus  reassured,  Mr.  Parker  went  through  the  broken 
gate  and  up  to  the  front  steps,  where  Paul  Hebert 
knocked  loudly  upon  the  door.  There  was  no  answer. 

"  Let's  go  around  to  the  back  of  the  house,"  said  he, 
"  and  perhaps  we  will  find  the  old  man  there." 

In  the  doorway  of  the  stable  old  Telesse  was  sharp 
ening  a  cane  knife.  When  he  saw  the  two  men  ap 
proaching,  he  stuck  the  knife  in  one  of  the  doors  and 
came  forward  to  meet  them. 

Paul  Hebert  called  out  to  him  from  a  distance. 

"  Comment  qa  va?  "  said  he. 

'  Te  train''  said  the  old  man,  as  he  joined  the  two 
men  and  shook  hands  with  them  awkwardly.  He  paid 
little  attention  to  Mr.  Parker,  who  stood  eyeing  him 
mistrustfully,  as  though  he  feared  that  the  old  man 
had  another  cane  knife  hidden  about  his  person. 

Paul  Hebert  now  began  to  speak  to  him  in  French, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  and  the  old  man  talked  earnestly, 
the  former  explaining  his  words  with  many  gestures 
and  much  showing  of  papers,  the  latter  replying  sel 
dom,  listening  sullenly,  his  face  filled  with  a  dogged 
sorrow  that  was  pitiful  to  see. 

TOO 


OLD    TELESSE    GOES    HOME 

Finally  Paul  Hebert  turned  to  Mr.  Parker. 

"  It  is  all  finished,"  said  he,  "  but  I  had  an  awful 
time  explaining  it  to  him.  He  cannot  read,  and  your 
papers  were  of  no  use.  It  seems  that  Mr.  Lawrence 
left  him  -the  crop  when  he  died,  and  he  cannot  under 
stand  why  it  does  not  belong  to  him.  Finally  I  said 
something  about  the  Judge,  and  that  fixed  him.  All  of 
the  people  around  here  are  afraid  of  the  Judge.  The 
old  man  is  going  to  move  away  to-day  in  the  jumper, 
which  he  says  is  his.  The  horse  is  that  small  gray  one 
in  the  pasture.  It  is  his,  also,  as  he  brought  it  with 
him  when  he  came  to  this  place.  He  is  going  back  to 
his  house  in  the  Grand  Woods.  You  had  better  come 
with  me  now  and  get  your  baggage,  so  that  you  will 
have  time  to  get  back  before  dark." 

Before  he  started  for  the  gate,  Mr.  Parker  turned, 
and  going  over  to  the  old  man,  held  out  his  hand. 

"  If  you  want  to  stay  here  and  help  me,"  said  he, 
"  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  leave  at  all.  I  am 
sorry  enough  to  turn  you  out,  but  the  place  is  mine,  and 
you  must  know  that  I  want  to  have  it.  Won't  you  stay 
awhile  with  me,  until  I  can  get  things  straight?  " 

The  old  man  glared  at  him  savagely  for  a  moment, 
and  then  threw  out  his  hand  in  a  gesture  of  hate  and 
disgust. 

"Voleur!"  said  he.     "  Je  vais  t'attraper!" 

Mr.  Parker  shrank  from  this  fierce  old  man  and 
joined  Paul  Hebert  quickly. 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  he  gasped. 

The  deputy  sheriff  smiled  in  amusement. 

"  He  called  you  a  thief,  and  said  that  he  would  get 

101 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

even  with  you  some  day,"  answered  he,  as  the  two  men 
started  for  the  front  of  the  house. 

The  old  man  watched  his  unwelcome  visitors  out  of 
sight  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way,  his  head  nodding  at  inter 
vals,  as  though  he  were  accepting  the  inevitable.  When 
the  sound  of  the  departing  buggy  had  died  away,  he 
went  to  the  pasture  gate  and  called  the  little  girl. 

Out  from  the  hedges  she  came,  her  little  apron  full 
of  white  Cherokee  roses,  the  dog  Chicot  plodding  stead 
ily  behind  her.  When  she  reached  the  old  man,  he 
spoke  to  her  in  French. 

"  Come  with  me;  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,"  said  he. 

Obediently  the  little  girl  followed  him,  and  when 
they  had  reached  the  stable,  the  old  man  seated  him 
self  upon  a  great  log  that  lay  there,  drawing  the  child 
up  beside  him. 

"  Listen,"  said  he.  "  M'sleu  Paul  Hebert  came 
here  to-day  with  a  stranger,  and  he  has  told  me  that 
this  place  is  not  ours;  that  it  belongs  to  this  stranger, 
and  that  we  must  move.  Do  you  understand?  " 

The  little  girl  nodded,  her  face  wrinkled  with  a  per 
plexity  that  denied  her  statement. 

"  We  must  go  away  to  my  house  in  the  Grand 
Woods,"  continued  the  old  man.  "  We  must  leave  the 
crop,  the  stock,  everything.  I  will  take  the  horse  and 
the  jumper,  for  they  are  mine.  We  will  go  now  and 
pack  up  our  clothes,  so  that  we  can  leave  this  evening. 
The  stranger  is  coming  out  to-night.  I  do  not  under 
stand  it  all,  but  one  thing  I  know.  We  must  leave.  Do 
you  understand?  " 

Again  the  little  girl  nodded,  and  this  time  she  seemed 

102 


OLD    TELESSE    GOES   HOME 

to  be  worried.  Once  or  twice  she  began  to  speak  and 
stopped,  as  though  she  was  about  to  ask  a  favor  that 
she  feared  would  be  denied  her.  Finally  she  spoke,  her 
voice  trembling  with  anxiety. 

"Can — can — can  I  take  Chicot  with  me?"  she 
asked  slowly. 

The  old  man  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,"  answered  he.  "  He  can  run  along  beside 
the  jumper. 

The  child's  pretty  face  broke  into  smiles  of  delight, 
her  eyes  beamed  with  happiness.  What  cared  she  for 
house  or  home  or  fields?  She  had  her  dog,  her  play 
mate,  and  she  was  satisfied. 

But  the  old  man  was  not,  and  as  he  gazed  about 
him  and  saw  the  many  familiar  objects  that  for  years 
had  daily  played  their  part  in  his  life,  his  heart  was 
very  heavy.  Down  in  the  fields  the  cane  stretched 
eastward,  a  mass  of  green  and  purple.  There  it  lay, 
the  work  of  his  hands,  each  stalk  owing  its  life,  its 
strength,  its  sweetness,  to  his  untiring  labor.  All 
through  the  year  he  had  watched  it,  helping  it  from 
the  first  tender  shoot  to  the  strong-jointed  stalk,  and 
now  when  it  stood  ripe  and  ready,  when  his  work  was 
finished,  he  must  lose  it.  He  had  made  the  crop,  and 
another,  a  stranger,  would  reap  the  harvest — would 
receive  the  money,  the  little  child's  money  for  which  he 
had  worked  so  untiringly.  It  was  very  hard,  and  the 
old  man's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  tears  of  anger,  of 
bitter  protest. 

Suddenly  his  eye  caught  the  mass  of  roses  in  the 
child's  lap,  and  his  face  softened. 

103 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Come,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  We  will  say  good-by  to 
your  father." 

Taking  the  child  by  the  hand,  he  walked  slowly  to 
the  little  garden  by  the  side  of  the  house.  There, 
among  the  ragged  rose  bushes  (whose  heavy  flowers 
filled  the  air  with  perfume),  covered  with  grass  and 
creepers,  was  a  mound,  its  top  strewn  with  faded  flow 
ers.  Above  it  the  trees  stretched  their  branches  in  a 
green  canopy,  and  at  the  head  there  was  a  rough 
wooden  cross,  carved  from  solid  oak — the  work  of 
many  days. 

By  this  cross,  his  own  handiwork,  the  old  man  knelt 
in  silent  prayer,  his  head  bowed,  his  arms  folded.  The 
little  girl  knelt  also  for  a  moment,  her  face  sad,  and 
then  rising,  she  took  her  roses  from  her  apron  and 
placed  them  upon  the  grave  until  it  gleamed  a  mass 
of  white  amid  its  emerald  setting. 

In  the  trees  overhead  a  bird  began  to  sing.  The 
little  girl,  falling  upon  her  knees,  buried  her  face 
among  the  white  blossoms,  and  kissed  the  hard  black 
earth.  The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  watch 
ing  her.  In  a  moment  the  child  came  to  him. 

"  I  have  told  my  father  good-by,"  said  she,  and 
smiled. 

The  old  man  coughed,  and  turned  his  head  away. 

"  Come  into  the  house,"  said  he  brokenly,  "  for  we 
must  pack  our  clothes  and  leave." 

Into  the  house  they  went,  the  old  man  making  their 
few  clothes  into  a  bundle.  What  belonged  to  him,  he 
took,  lingering  lovingly  over  the  many  things  which  he 
must  leave  behind.  Finally  all  was  ready,  and  he  stood 

104 


OLD    TELESSE    GOES   HOME 

at  the  door  with  his  jumper.  Lifting  the  child  to  the 
high  seat,  he  stood  for  an  instant  looking  about  him. 

"  I  am  leaving  many  things  of  your  father's  that  I 
must  see  the  stranger  about  to-morrow,"  said  he.  "  I 
will  come  in  a  wagon  and,  if  he  lets  me  have  them, 
I  will  bring  them  back  with  me.  And  now  that  you  are 
going  to  the  Grand  Woods  to  live  with  me,  Aline,  you 
must  not  call  me  Telesse  any  more.  You  must  call  me 
Uncle  Telesse;  do  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Telesse,"  answered  the  child. 

"  Good,"  said  the  old  man  as  he  climbed  into  the 
jumper  and  sat  beside  her. 

Once  more  he  looked  about  him  in  silent  parting,  his 
eyes  dim  and  misty,  and  then,  whipping  the  horses,  they 
started  upon  their  journey,  the  dog  trotting  behind 
them.  Down  through  the  Cherokee  hedges  they  drove, 
the  old  man  silent,  the  child  chatting  merrily,  now 
pointing  out  something  by  the  roadside,  now  calling  to 
the  dog,  alive  with  the  pleasure  of  seeing  something 
new. 

Presently  they  came  to  Landry,  and  the  old  man, 
seeing  Monsieur  Landry  on  his  porch,  called  to  him  as 
he  passed: 

"  Comment  qa  va?  "  cried  he. 

Monsieur  Landry  did  not  reply.  All  memory  of  the 
past  had  been  wiped  from  his  brain  by  the  fever  as  a 
schoolboy  wipes  a  sum  from  his  slate,  and  he  knew  not 
who  the  occupants  of  the  jumper  were. 

Angrily  the  old  man  turned  the  corner  past  Monsieur 
Landry's  house. 

"  It  is  always  the  way,"  said  he  to  himself  bitterly. 

105 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  When  one  is  in  trouble  the  whole  world  is  against 
him." 

The  child  turned  and  cast  a  backward  glance  at  the 
little  town. 

"  Good-by,"  said  she  laughingly.  "  I  am  going 
away,  far  away  to  the  Grand  Woods;  ain't  I,  Uncle 
Telesse?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  man  as  he  whipped  up  the 
horse,  "  you  are  going  to  the  Grand  Woods,  and  you 
did  right  to  call  me  uncle." 

The  child  nodded  and  turned  again  to  look  at  the 
fast-receding  Landry.  With  an  impatient  shrug  she 
settled  herself  in  her  seat  again,  for  the  little  town  had 
sunk  behind  the  distant  horizon. 

And  so  it  was  that  Aline,  daughter  of  Lawrence,  left 
her  home  and  her  heritage  behind  her;  and  so  it  was 
that  this  old  man  and  this  little  girl,  so  strangely  thrown 
together  by  fate,  by  destiny,  set  out  in  the  clear  Novem 
ber  evening  toward  the  Grand  Woods,  which,  lying 
cool  and  still  in  the  western  sunlight,  stretched  out  its 
green  arms  to  receive  them. 


106 


BOOK    TWO 


CHAPTER    I 

BELRIVE 

IT  was  twelve  o'clock  on  a  bright  winter  day  and  it 
was  cold — very  cold.     Early  that  morning,  before 
the  first  faint  streaks  of  the  approaching  day  had 
appeared  in  the  east,  coming  softly,  timidly,  as  though 
in  awe  of  the  stern  dignity  of  the  night,  a  visitor  had 
come  to  Belrive.    A  rough,  a  noisy  visitor,  howling  and 
shrieking  in  utter  abandon,  starting  the  sleeping  ones 
into  a  shivering  wakefulness — this  unwelcome  visitor 
was  the  North  Wind. 

All  morning  long  he  had  sported  about  Belrive, 
whistling  through  the  quarters  in  mockery  at  the  shiv 
ering  negroes  within ;  swirling  about  the  stables  in  mad 
outcry  until  the  cowering  animals  huddled  together  for 
warmth  and  comfort;  rattling  through  the  avenue  of 
live  oaks  that  led  to  the  big  house  until  the  moss  and 
leaves  strewed  the  ground  far  and  near;  roaring  and 
shrieking  about  the  big  house  itself,  in  the  most  imperti 
nent  manner  possible,  until  the  fires  within  blazed 
fiercely  and  the  smoke  from  the  tall  chimneys  poured 
in  volumes,  to  be  tortured  and  twisted  by  this  same 
North  Wind,  until  torn  to  pieces  it  vanished  forever. 
Far  up  in  the  cloudless  sky  was  the  sun;  shining  calm 
and  undisturbed,  its  stolid  face  and  warming  rays  bid- 

109 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

ding  defiance  to  this  noisy  invader,  promising  peace  and 
deliverance  from  his  blustering  sway. 

Down  near  the  quarters  a  negro  was  ringing  the 
plantation  bell,  his  ragged  clothes  flapping  about  him, 
his  body  swaying  with  the  rope,  which  threw  the  bell 
from  side  to  side,  sometimes  completely  overturning  it  in 
its  violence.  Loudly  boomed  the  bell,  and  the  wind  in  its 
wanton  play  catching  the  sound,  hurried  it  along  past 
the  stables,  over  the  high  white  fence  of  the  stable  lot, 
and  on  into  the  fields,  rushing  over  the  levees  with  their 
dead  offerings  of  withered  weeds;  driving  it  through 
the  tall  Cherokee  hedges  within  whose  green  hearts 
the  birds  cuddled  low  for  shelter;  whirling  it  around  the 
great  piles  of  straw  until  the  field  mice  burrowed 
far  into  their  musty  interiors ;  urging  it  on  over  the  rich 
black  furrows  where  the  plows  had  passed,  until  it 
brought  it  to  the  plows  themselves,  and  the  negroes 
hearing  it,  hurried  their  mules  to  the  end  of  the  rows, 
glancing  eagerly  toward  the  quarters  where  the  twist 
ing  columns  of  smoke  told  of  warmth,  of  rest,  and  of 
comfort. 

No  sooner  did  a  team  reach  the  end  of  its  row  than 
its  driver,  fixing  his  plow  point  into  the  catch  upon  his 
long  wooden  slide,  stepped  upon  the  slide  himself  and 
started  for  the  plantation  road,  his  body  swaying  with 
the  motion  of  the  mule  in  his  effort  to  keep  a  balance 
upon  his  narrow  foothold.  The  big  gang  plows,  whose 
two  shining  blades  had  all  morning  torn  and  shattered 
the  tender  bosom  of  the  earth,  started  toward  the  road 
also;  the  drivers  cracking  their  whips  and  shouting  at 
the  teams  in  their  eagerness  to  reach  the  road  before 

1 10 


BELRIVE 

the  others;  the  two  big  blades  raised  high  above  the 
ground  now  as  though  in  truce  after  the  battle  of  the 
morning,  the  earth  dropping  from  their  polished  sides 
in  token  of  the  long  deep  scars  behind  them.  And  last 
of  all  the  water  boy,  his  little  barrel  clasped  under  his 
arm,  hurried  to  the  road  where  his  water  cart  stood, 
and  seating  himself  upon  the  narrow  board  in  front, 
picked  up  the  rope  reins,  and  beat  the  sleepy  mule  into 
a  terrified  energy  in  his  effort  to  catch  up  with  the 
plows. 

Seated  upon  their  horses,  watching  these  preparations 
for  departure,  and  falling  in  behind  the  long  cavalcade 
as  it  moved  briskly  toward  the  stables,  were  two  white 
men:  Carey  Gordon,  the  owner  of  the  plantation,  and 
Nicholas  Wilson,  his  overseer. 

Carey  Gordon  was  a  young  man,  nearing  his  thirtieth 
year,  of  medium  height  and  slender,  yet  there  was  about 
his  well-built  and  sinewy  person  an  air  of  vigor  and 
strength  not  to  be  despised.  Any  one  of  the  negroes 
at  Belrive  would  have  told  you  that  he  was  powerful, 
mighty  powerful.  He  was  tanned  by  the  wind  and  sun 
to  the  deepest  of  brown,  and  the  hand  that  he  rested 
upon  his  saddle  was  almost  the  color  of  the  weather- 
beaten  leather.  His  face  was  clear  cut  and  handsome, 
the  jaw  slightly  squared,  giving  him  an  air  of  authority 
and  firmness,  while  his  mouth,  well-shaped  and  master 
ful,  showed  when  he  smiled  a  row  of  white  even  teeth 
that  were  the  crowning  beauty  of  his  very  pleasing  fea 
tures.  His  eyes  were  gray,  and  in  them  also  one  saw 
the  same  firmness  that  his  whole  person  suggested;  the 
firmness  of  a  man  who,  having  bent  his  will  to  a  pur- 

iii 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

pose,  follows  that  purpose  untiringly  until  its  accom 
plishment  is  gained. 

His  life  had  been  a  busy  one,  filled  with  much  work 
and  many  worries.  Called  from  college  by  the  death 
of  his  father,  he  had  taken  charge  of  the  plantation 
with  its  many  acres  and  its  throng  of  negroes,  and  for 
several  years  he  had  tried,  with  the  help  of  an  overseer, 
to  make  it  pay,  working  hard  in  dogged  silence  through 
the  short,  busy  grinding  season,  only  to  find  that  he 
had  lost  at  the  end  of  each  year;  hoping  against  hope 
through  it  all  that  he  would  succeed  another  time. 

Finally  it  came  to  him  that  he  would  never  succeed. 
His  sugar  house,  though  considered  large  at  the  time 
when  it  had  been  built,  was  now  too  small,  and  he  knew 
that  to  cope  with  the  many  huge  refineries  would  be 
impossible.  So  for  many  days  he  was  in  despair,  his 
mind  tortured  by  idleness,  until  he  met  the  man  who 
now  rode  at  his  side — Nicholas  Wilson. 

This  Nicholas  Wilson  had  been  in  many  places  and 
knew  of  many  crops.  He  met  Carey  at  the  time  of  his 
misfortune,  and  his  eye  catching  sight  of  the  many  level 
acres  of  Belrive,  he  spoke  to  him  of  rice,  spoke  long 
and  eloquently;  and  Carey,  seeing  a  gleam  of  hope,  grew 
at  first  interested,  then  hopeful,  and  in  the  end  agreed 
to  plant  a  small  crop  as  an  experiment,  with  Wilson  as 
overseer. 

And  so  Carey  Gordon  turned  his  back  upon  the  cane 
of  his  ancestors  and  planted  rice,  gaining  what  he  had 
lost  in  the  first  two  years,  and  continuing  to  gain  as  the 
years  passed  on,  while  the  poor  deserted  sugar  house 
gazed  at  him  in  reproachful  silence  from  its  broken 

112 


BELRIVE 

windows,  and  Nicholas  Wilson,  rubbing  his  hands  to 
gether  in  facetious  glee,  murmured,  "  What  did  I  tell 
you?" 

Nicholas  Wilson  was  a  Western  man,  and  into  his 
sharp,  thrifty  common-sense  nature  had  injected  a  great 
amount  of  good  humor  and  a  keen  appreciation  of  the 
ridiculous,  which,  combined  with  his  knowledge  of 
many  persons  and  places,  made  him  a  most  interesting 
person.  Upon  his  countenance  you  would  perpetually 
find  a  look  of  quizzical  amusement,  as  though  he  were 
about  to  say,  "  I  know  that  you  are  going  to  tell  me 
something  funny;  well  now  what  is  it?"  As  he  rode 
along  with  his  companion  he  beguiled  the  time  with 
many  stories  and  anecdotes  until  they  reached  the 
stables,  when  suddenly  his  face  became  serious. 

"  Say,  look  here,  Mr.  Gordon,"  said  he,  "  I  was 
down  in  the  back  of  the  field  to-day,  and  I  was  looking 
at  that  empty  cabin  again.  Hain't  there  no  one  we  can 
get  to  take  it  before  plantin'  time?  There's  a  big  patch 
around  that  cabin  that  hain't  got  a  thing  on  it,  and  I 
hate  to  see  the  land  lie  idle." 

"  I  can't  find  a  soul,"  replied  Carey  helplessly.  "  I 
would  rather  get  a  white  man  to  take  the  place  on 
shares  if  it  is  possible.  You  see  what  you  can  do,  and 
I  will  try  again." 

Wilson  nodded.  "  All  right,"  said  he.  "  I'll  get  a 
man  if  I  have  to  kidnap  him." 

During  this  conversation  the  negroes  had  been  unhar 
nessing  their  teams,  each  man  hanging  his  harness  on 
one  of  the  multitude  of  pegs  that  lined  the  stable  walls, 
and  then  pulling  his  plow  from  off  its  slide  to  place  it 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

in  a  half-circle  with  the  rest.  The  mules,  released  from 
their  gear,  trotted  quickly  into  their  stalls,  where  a  loud 
sound  of  crunching  announced  that  they  were  hungry 
afcer  their  half-day's  work,  while  the  negroes,  follow 
ing  their  example,  hurried  off  to  the  quarters,  whence 
a  loud  yelling  of  children  and  a  great  barking  of  dogs 
heralded  their  arrival.  Carey,  leaving  the  overseer  at 
his  home,  rode  away  by  the  footpath  that  led  from  the 
stables,  and  hurrying  past  the  old  sugar  house  as  though 
ashamed  of  his  desertion,  arrived  at  the  big  house  just 
as  the  bell  was  ringing  for  lunch. 

The  house  at  Belrive  was  a  very  old  and  a  very  large 
one,  having  in  its  time  been  a  veritable  palace,  where 
the  planters  and  their  ladies  in  the  golden,  never-to-be- 
forgotten  days,  before  the  War,  had  come  to  enjoy 
a  hospitality  that  was  as  boundless  as  the  acres  of  its 
owner.  It  was  a  tall  square  house,  set  against  a  back 
ground  of  live  oak  and  magnolia  trees,  its  many  out 
buildings  huddling  about  it  in  a  motley  throng  as 
though  afraid  of  leaving  its  protection. 

On  entering  the  dining  room  Carey  found  his  mother, 
his  Aunt  Betty,  and  his  sister  Marjorie  seated  about 
the  table,  and  awaiting  his  arrival.  His  mother,  who 
sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  was  a  small  woman  past 
the  middle-age  of  life,  yet  still  retaining  a  good  part 
of  the  beauty  for  which  in  her  younger  days  she  had 
been  famed.  She  had  been  born  a  Virginian,  and  was 
the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  Careys,  whose  name  she 
wished  to  perpetuate  through  her  only  son. 

Sitting  next  to  her  at  the  lunch  table  was  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Peters,  generally  called  Aunt  Betty,  if  the 

114 


BELRIVE 

speaker  knew  her  well,  or  Miss  Betty,  if  he  did  not. 
Like  her  sister  she  was  small,  but  here  her  resemblance 
to  that  lady  ceased  entirely,  for,  being  a  much  older 
woman,  her  face  was  crossed  and  seamed  by  a  great 
many  wrinkles,  which  would  have  made  one  think  her 
very  old  and  feeble,  were  it  not  for  her  great  activity 
and  her  eyes.  These  eyes  were  very  black  and  small, 
like  those  of  a  bird,  and  as  they  were  continually  hop 
ping  from  one  point  of  vision  to  another  (with  gener 
ally  an  amused  tolerance  in  their  placid  depths)  they 
told  of  an  activity  of  mind  and  a  keen  sense  of 
observation,  really  remarkable  in  such  a  very  little 
old  lady.  Like  her  sister,  she  was  a  widow.  Mrs.  Gor 
don  had  mourned  and  still  mourned  the  death  of  her 
husband  with  a  grief  that  was  as  true  as  her  love  for  him 
had  been,  but  Aunt  Betty  had  stood  her  affliction  with 
very  little  mourning  and  very  much  stolid  silence;  so 
much  stolid  silence  in  fact,  that  a  number  of  people  had 
expressed  their  opinion  that  she  looked  upon  the  taking 
away  of  her  husband  as  more  of  a  Godsend  than  a 
calamity. 

Those  who  had  known  the  late  Mr.  Peters  remem 
bered  him  as  a  timid,  shrinking  man,  who,  never  ex 
pressing  any  opinion  of  his  own  or  saying  anything  not 
previously  approved  of  by  his  wife,  seemed  to  have 
been  overcome  by  her  powerful  mind  to  the  extent  of 
being  a  nonentity.  But  what  he  had  been  during  his 
life  had  no  connection  with  his  wife's  memory  of  him, 
for  like  some  great  heroes  he  was  immortalized  by 
death,  and  his  merest  saying  became  to  her  an  incon- 
testible  truth.  Whenever  Aunt  Betty  wished  to  impress 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

a  fact  upon  a  listener,  she  recalled  something  said  by 
her  husband  bearing  upon  the  subject,  and  if  the  re 
marks  used  by  the  deceased  Mr.  Peters  were  introduced 
into  an  argument,  it  was  a  sign  that  the  argument  was 
ended  and  ended  in  her  favor,  as  the  sayings  of  her 
husband  were  manifestly  incapable  of  contradiction. 

Some  people  said  that  as  the  deceased  Mr.  Peters 
had  never  been  known  to  make  an  original  remark  dur 
ing  the  whole  of  his  married  life,  his  many  brilliant 
sayings  were  the  property  of  his  wife,  loaned  to  him 
during  his  lifetime  to  be  made  famous  by  his  death; 
and  some  people  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  a  great  many 
of  the  remarks  and  expressions  credited  to  him  had 
never  been  uttered  by  that  quiet,  timid  gentleman  at 
all.  But  you  may  be  sure  that  such  gossip  as  this  had 
never  reached  the  ears  of  Aunt  Betty,  who,  taking  the 
greatest  interest  in  all  the  affairs  of  her  neighbors, 
never  for  a  moment  imagined  that  the  neighbors  took 
such  a  very  great  interest  in  hers. 

Seated  across  the  table  from  Aunt  Betty  was  Mar- 
jorie  Gordon.  A  large  blue  envelope  lay  upon  the 
cloth  in  front  of  her,  and  there  was  a  smile  of  great 
satisfaction  on  her  pretty  face.  She  was  a  young  girl, 
not  yet  out  of  her  teens,  having  just  attained  that  age 
when,  passing  from  the  awkward  schoolgirl  period 
into  young  womanhood,  the  real  feminine  begins  to  show 
itself  faint  and  delicate,  and  supremely  divine. 

The  first  to  greet  her  brother  as  he  entered  the  room, 
Marjorie  half  arose  from  her  chair  in  her  eagerness, 
waving  the  blue  envelope  at  him.  "  It's  come !  It's 
come !  "  she  cried,  still  waving  the  envelope  furiously. 

116 


BELRIVE 

"  She  is  going  to  be  here  early  this  spring,  and  then 
won't  I  have  some  one  to  go  with,  and  won't  you  have 
some  one  to  flirt  with?  " 

Carey,  who  had  taken  his  seat  and  appeared  bewil 
dered  at  this  outburst,  now  began  to  understand.  "  You 
mean  that  your  Miss  Lawrence  is  coming  to  Belrive?  " 
he  inquired. 

Marjorie  nodded.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  u  Julia  is  com 
ing.  Aren't  you  glad?  " 

Carey  smiled  rather  doubtfully.  "  Yes,  yes,"  an 
swered  he,  "  but  I  don't  see  any  great  cause  for  excite 
ment  just  now,  when  you  consider  that  she  will  not  be 
here  until  spring." 

"  From  her  letter  she  seems  to  be  delighted  at  the 
prospect  of  staying  in  the  country,"  said  Mrs.  Gordon. 
"  As  you  have  heard,  her  father  died  last  summer,  and 
since  then  she  has  been  living  with  her  aunt  in  New 
Orleans.  She  wrote  that  a  cousin  of  hers  has  taken 
charge  of  Lawrence  Hall,  and  that  she  misses  the 
plantation  dreadfully.  So  Marjorie,  who  was  her 
room-mate  at  school,  invited  her  to  visit  us.  She  will 
be  such  a  companion  for  us  all,  and  I  am  sure  that 
from  what  is  said  of  her  beauty  you  had  better  look  out 
for  yourself,  Carey." 

Carey  laughed.  "  If  she  were  coming  sooner,"  said 
he,  "  I  might  need  your  warning.  As  it  is,  she  will  get 
here  when  I  am  so  busy  thinking  of  planting  that  I  will 
not  have  a  thought  for  anything  else.  However,  I  will 
try  to  find  the  time  to  entertain  her." 

"  And  to  fall  in  love  with  her,"  suggested  Aunt 
Betty. 

117 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Carey  shook  his  head.  "  I  won't  have  time  enough 
for  that,"  answered  he. 

"  Your  uncle  was  once  traveling  with  a  man,"  said 
Aunt  Betty,  "  when  the  train  happened  to  stop  at  a  little 
station  in  which  there  was  a  sort  of  restaurant.  When 
the  man  saw  it  from  the  car  window  he  told  your  uncle 
that  he  would  like  to  get  out  and  buy  a  sandwich  but 
he  was  afraid  of  getting  left.  *  You  have  plenty  of 
time  in  which  to  do  so,'  said  your  uncle,  so  the  man  got 
out  and  bought  his  sandwich.  He  also  caught  his 
train."  Aunt  Betty  ceased  speaking  and  began  to  fold 
up  her  napkin. 

Carey  looked  puzzled.  "  But  I  don't  see  what  that 
has  to  do  with  my  falling  in  love  with  Miss  Law 
rence,"  he  ventured. 

Aunt  Betty  smiled  triumphantly.  "The  man  fell  in 
love  with  the  girl  who  sold  him  the  sandwich,"  said  she. 
"  It  took  just  two  minutes." 

"  Did  he  marry  the  girl  at  the  restaurant?  "  asked 
Marjorie. 

"  He  did,"  said  Aunt  Betty.  "  And  she  ran  away 
with  the  very  conductor  who  took  up  his  and  your 
uncle's  tickets  on  the  day  he  met  her.  I  suppose  that 
Fate  worked  the  affair  out  that  way  to  be  consistent." 

Carey  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully.  "  I  guess  you 
are  right,  Aunt  Betty,"  said  he;  "  it  doesn't  take  very 
long,  does  it?  " 

"  Of  course  it  doesn't,"  said  the  little  old  lady 
decisively. 

"Did  it  take  Uncle  very  long?"  asked  Marjorie 
timidly. 

118 


BELRIVE 

Aunt  Betty  smoothed  the  cloth  in  front  of  her  and 
smiled  grimly.  u  No,"  said  she.  "  He  didn't  take 
long  at  all.  I  didn't  let  him.  It  is  a  very  good  thing 
to  do,  my  dear,  as  you  will  find  out  soon  enough." 

u  How  you  do  talk,  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Gordon. 
"  Marjorie  is  too  young  to  even  think  of  getting 
married." 

"  Perhaps  she  is,"  replied  Aunt  Betty.  "  A  good 
many  people  get  married  without  thinking,  and  if  most 
of  them  thought  about  the  matter  at  all  there  would  be 
fewer  marriages." 

"  Well,"  said  Carey,  "  if  that  is  the  case,  I  am  going 
to  think  of  marrying  for  a  long  time  to  come,  as  I  am 
by  no  means  anxious  to  change  my  present  condition." 

At  this  moment  the  big  clock  in  the  hall  struck  one, 
and  pushing  back  his  chair  from  the  table  Carey  arose. 
"  I  will  just  have  time  to  catch  the  teams  on  their  way 
to  the  field,"  said  he,  as  he  hurried  from  the  room. 

Going  out  to  his  horse  he  mounted  and  was  about 
to  ride  away  to  the  stables,  when  his  eye  was  struck 
by  the  figure  of  a  man  who  was  riding  slowly  up  the 
long  avenue  of  live  oaks  that  led  to  the  house.  Mov 
ing  forward  until  he  reached  the  avenue  of  trees, 
Carey  waited  for  the  stranger  to  come  up  to  him,  which 
he  finally  did,  pulling  in  his  horse  (a  poor  mass  of 
skin  and  bones)  with  a  quick,  cruel  jerk  of  the  bridle. 

He  was  a  tall,  handsome  man  with  wicked  black 
eyes,  a  thin  well-shaped  nose,  and  a  very  red,  full 
mouth.  His  face  was  an  olive  brown,  and  his  clothes, 
which  were  torn  to  rags  and  tatters  flapped  and  beat 
about  him  in  the  cold  wind,  showing  the  ragged  holes 

119 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

with  the  brown  skin  beneath.  Despite  the  coldness  of 
the  weather  he  was  wet  to  the  waist,  and  his  water- 
soaked  shoes  showed  the  feet  within  blue  with  cold. 
Hanging  from  the  pommel  of  his  worn  saddle,  as 
though  in  explanation  of  his  soaked  condition,  was  a 
great  bunch  of  ducks  and  snipe,  and  the  man,  who 
seemed  to  be  in  a  very  good  humor  despite  his  dilapi 
dated  wet  appearance,  swung  his  gun  across  the  saddle 
in  front  of  'him,  and  pointing  to  the  game  asked 
pleasantly: 

"Want  to  buy  some  birds?  " 

"  I  don't  know;  you  will  have  to  ask  at  the  kitchen," 
answered  Carey,  and  then  mindful  of  poachers, 
"Where  did  you  kill  them?" 

"  In  the  Grand  Woods,"  said  the  stranger.  "  They 
are  fine  and  fat.  Feel  one,"  he  urged,  holding  out  a 
duck  as  he  spoke. 

"You  live  in  the  Grand  Woods?"  asked  Carey, 
who  having  felt  the  duck  was  about  to  ride  on. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  "  but  I  would  like  to  live 
in  Landry.  And  the  old  man  will  not  move  with  the 
girl,"  he  added  angrily,  speaking  more  to  himself  than 
to  his  listener. 

"  I  see,"  said  Carey;  "  so  there  is  a  girl  in  it,  is  there? 
And  the  old  man,  what  does  he  do?  " 

"  He  raises  a  little  cotton  and  a  little  corn,  but  his 
place  is  not  large,  and  he  can  make  but  little  money," 
answered  the  stranger. 

Carey's  eyes  brightened.  "  Does  he  really  know 
anything  about  a  crop?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  He  was  an  overseer  on  a  plantation  near  Landry 

120 


BELRIVE 

before  the  yellow  fever,  and  he  always  did  well," 
replied  the  stranger.  "  But  then,  M'sieu,  that  was 
fifteen  years  ago." 

"  And  what  is  this  man's  name?  "  asked  Carey. 

"  Telesse,"  said  the  stranger,  "  Old  Telesse." 

"  Well,"  answered  Carey,  "  I  have  a  good  cabin 
without  a  tenant,  and  if  the  old  man  will  take  it  in  time 
for  planting  I  will  let  him  work  the  land  about  it  on 
shares.  Will  you  tell  him  that  for  me?  " 

The  stranger's  eyes  shone  with  pleasure.  "  I  am 
going  there  to-night,  and  I  will  surely  tell  him,"  he 
answered. 

Carey  smiled.  "  I  see,"  said  he.  "  So  you  are  going 
there  to-night,  are  you?  Going  to  see  the  girl,  I 
suppose?  " 

The  stranger's  face  flushed  slightly.  "  If  you  saw 
the  girl  you  would  know  why  I  go  to  see  her,  M'sieu 
Gordon,"  he  replied  passionately.  "  She  is  not  like 
the  other  girls  about  here.  She  is  an  angel,  and  she  is 
beautiful.  Ah!  so  beautiful!  More  beautiful  than  the 
statue  of  the  Virgin  in  the  big  church  at  Mouton.  And 
she  is  as  good  as  the  Saints  that  the  Pere  Martain  told 
me  about  when  I  was  a  boy.  Why,  do  you  think, 
M'sieu!"  he  cried,  his  voice  rising  higher,  "  do  you 
suppose  that  I  would  go  in  the  water  on  such  a  day 
as  this  for  any  but  Aline,  my  Aline?  " 

Carey  looked  at  the  man  and  wondered  at  his  pas 
sion.  In  some  way  it  seemed  to  affect  him  so  that 
when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  soft  and  low.  "  The  girl 
must  be  very  good  and  very  pretty,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
am  not  surprised  at  your  loving  her.  Go  to  the  kitchen 

121 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

with  your  birds  and  if  they  do  not  buy  them  you  can 
at  least  get  warm." 

The  stranger  thanked  him  and  started  his  tired  horse 
toward  the  kitchen.  Carey  stood  watching  him  as  he 
rode  slowly  away,  when  suddenly  a  thought  striking 
him,  he  called  to  the  retreating  horseman.  "  I  say," 
he  cried,  "  what  is  your  name?  " 

The  stranger,  turning  in  the  saddle,  answered  him 
with  a  shout,  the  wind  causing  his  voice  to  sound  weak 
and  far  away.  "  Numa,  Numa  Le  Blanc,"  said  he. 

Carey  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  side  and  went 
loping  off  toward  the  stables.  "  Numa,"  said  he  to  him 
self  thoughtfully,  "  Numa  Le  Blanc.  Now  where  have 
I  heard  of  that  name  before?  " 


122 


CHAPTER    II 

SOME    BIRDS 

THE  kitchen  at  Belrive  (a  long  extension  built 
out  from  one  side  of  the  big  house)  was 
always  a  place  of  great  warmth  and  comfort; 
a  place  where  one  might  while  away  many  a  work 
ing  hour  in  front  of  the  big  stove  and  never  know 
it;  a  place  where  much  conversation  and  many  argu 
ments  progressed,  where  the  idle  came  to  waste  away 
the  day,  and  the  industrious  stopping  for  a  moment 
became  idle  also,  in  the  power  of  its  mighty  comfort, 
its  savory  odors  and  its  high-pitched  conversations. 

It  was  a  small  kingdom  in  itself,  where  many  mat 
ters  of  importance  and  of  moment  were  discussed  and 
the  ruler  of  it  all,  proud  in  her  position  and  relentless 
to  those  who  disobeyed  her,  was  Aunt  Felonise,  the 
cook:  big  and  black  and  bubbling  over  with  good 
humor  and  contentment  at  one  moment,  only  to  be  giv 
ing  vent  to  her  anger  in  deep-chested  threats  in  the 
next.  To  enter  her  kitchen  was  an  honor  given  only 
to  the  house  servants,  and  were  any  one  from  the 
quarters  to  try  to  go  beyond  the  big  green  door,  with 
its  myriad  of  sooty  finger  marks,  Aunt  Felonise  would 
never  recover  from  the  insult. 

It  was  toward  this  kitchen  that  the  ragged  Numa 
now  made  his  way,  and  finding  the  green  door  tightly 

123 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

closed  against  the  wind,  he  got  down  from  his  horse 
and  knocked  loudly  upon  it.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
door  he  heard  at  first  a  great  deal  of  loud  talking  and 
laughing,  but  at  the  sound  of  his  knock  it  ceased  en 
tirely,  as  though  some  one  had  snuffed  it  out  like  a 
candle,  and  a  deep  voice  asked  from  inside: 

"Who  dar?" 

"Want  to  buy  some  birds?"  asked  Numa  doubt 
fully. 

The  door  swung  slowly  inward,  and  he  entered  to 
find  himself  in  a  great  square  room,  its  whitewashed 
walls  black  with  soot  and  grease  and  hung  with  a 
multitude  of  cooking  utensils  of  various  shapes  and 
sizes.  Near  the  wall  was  the  big  stove,  crowded  with 
pots  and  kettles,  and  surrounded  by  a  shivering  group 
of  negroes  of  all  ages,  who,  huddling  as  close  to  it  as 
possible,  derived  from  it  the  double  enjoyment  of  its 
heat,  and  its  appetizing  odor. 

Standing  near  the  stove,  her  turbaned  head  bent 
over  a  pot  in  a  most  industrious  manner,  was  Aunt 
Felonise,  her  broad  figure  presenting  a  view  of  greasy 
blue  and  white  calico  that  was  marvelous  to  see. 

"  Want  to  buy  some  birds?  "  repeated  Numa,  look 
ing  about  him  helplessly. 

Aunt  Felonise  rose  up  and  faced  him,  her  whole  per 
son  expressing  the  scorn  that  she  felt  for  what  she 
called  "  po'  white  trash."  Gazing  at  him  in  surprise, 
as  though  she  had  not  heard  the  knock  or  his  coming  in, 
she  inquired: 

"  Whar  you  come  from?  " 

"  The  Grand  Woods,"  answered  Numa  laconically. 

124 


SOME    BIRDS 

"  Lemme  see  yo'  birds/'  she  commanded. 

Going  out  to  his  horse  Numa  untied  the  birds,  and 
brought  them  in  to  her.  Aunt  Felonise  examined  them 
carefully,  turning  them  over,  and  prodding  them  with 
a  fat  black  forefinger.  Finally  she  announced  her  ver 
dict.  "  Dese  birds  is  mighty  po',"  said  she.  "  Some 
how  de  birds  ain't  like  dey  uster  be.  Dey  get  mo' 
poo'er  every  year.  But  I'll  see  if  dey  wants  any  at 
de  house. 

"  Buddy!"  she  now  called  to  a  small  boy,  who 
sprawled  lazily  on  his  back  amid  the  group  about  the 
stove,  "  get  up  from  dar,  yo'  urthless  good-fo'-nuthin' 
nigger,  an'  go  in  de  house  an'  ask  if  dey  wants  any 
birds.  Ask  Miss  Margey,  if  you  kin,"  she  continued 
as  Buddy  reached  the  door,  "  for  God  knows,  I  doan' 
want  Miss  Betty  to  come  heah  wif  all  dese  triflin'  nig 
gers  layin'  round,  an'  it's  so  cold  out  doas  I  ain't  got  de 
heart  to  turn  'em  out." 

During  this  speech,  delivered  by  Aunt  Felonise  in  a 
high  voice  at  first,  and  in  almost  a  whisper  at  the  end, 
Numa  had  been  standing  near  the  stove  warming  him 
self  and  drying  his  clothes,  and  the  heat  having  begun 
to  penetrate  the  damp  coarse  material,  little  puffs  of 
white  steam  began  to  ascend  from  him,  accompanied 
by  a  very  strong  odor  of  wet,  scorched  cloth.  Aunt 
Felonise,  whose  heart  was  tender,  noticed  this  and 
felt  sorry  for  the  soaked,  bedraggled  figure  before 
her. 

"  Well,  for'  God,  if  de  man  ain'  mos'  on  fire  wid  de 
hot  an'  de  cold,"  said  she  vaguely.  "  Jes'  stand  by  de 
stove  till  you's  good  an'  warm." 

125 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  so  Numa  stood  by  the  fire  while  Aunt  Felonise 
stirred  about  among  the  pots  and  pans,  and  the  negroes 
about  the  stove  were  chatting  merrily,  when  the  sound 
of  footsteps  on  the  gallery  outside  warned  them  of  the 
approach  of  the  absent  Buddy,  whose  loud  talking  told 
that  there  was  somebody  with  him. 

As  he  reached  the  door  he  shrieked,  "  Heah  he  is, 
Miss  Betty!  "  whereupon  that  lady  was  heard  inform 
ing  him  that  she  was  not  deaf,  and  that  a  continuation 
of  such  very  loud  talking  would  very  probably  get  him 
into  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  But  the  warning  of  the 
loyal  Buddy  had  been  heard  in  time,  for  when  Aunt 
Betty  entered  the  big  kitchen  the  group  about  the  fire 
had  melted  away  just  as  snow  would  have  melted  if 
placed  in  a  similar  position,  and  the  room  was  now 
filled  with  a  busy  throng  that  chopped  meat,  picked 
chickens,  scoured  pans,  helped  about  the  big  stove,  and 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  atone,  in  a  single  minute,  for  its 
idleness  during  the  entire  morning. 

For  a  moment  Aunt  Betty  surveyed  this  seeming 
industry  in  a  quiet,  dangerous  silence,  her  eyes  moving 
quickly  about  the  room.  "  This  is  the  first  time  in  my 
life,"  said  she  drily,  her  eyes  now  fixed  upon  a  certain 
corner,  "  that  I  have  beheld  the  spectacle  of  two  full- 
grown  women  picking  one  small  chicken." 

"  Aunt  Felonise  was  in  a  powerful  hurry  for  it,  Miss 
Betty,"  said  one  of  the  culprits,  "  an'  we's  both  workin' 
on  de  chicken  to  get  it  ready  sooner." 

"  The  falsehood  that  you  are  telling,  Millie,"  re 
plied  Aunt  Betty,  "  is  such  a  monstrous,  and  such  a 
deliberate  one,  that  I  almost  feel  inclined  to  compli- 

126 


SOME    BIRDS 

ment  you  on  your  powers  of  mendacity — or  of  lying,  I 
should  say.  However,  you  will  come  with  me  to  the 
house  when  I  go  back,  and  I  will  try  and  find  something 
for  you  to  do." 

To  this  the  woman  to  whom  she  had  been  speaking 
answered  nothing,  as  the  greater  part  of  Aunt  Betty's 
speeches  were  unintelligible  to  the  negroes,  but  having 
understood  that  she  was  to  go  to  the  house  and  work 
under  the  supervision  of  that  keen-sighted  lady,  she  sat 
in  silence,  divided  between  sullenness  and  bewilderment. 

Aunt  Betty  turned  to  Numa,  who  still  stood  by  the 
stove,  an  amused  smile  upon  his  face,  his  clothes  now 
scorched  and  almost  burning.  "  I  will  take  your  birds," 
said  she,  "  if  you  are  willing  to  sell  them  for  the  usual 
price." 

Numa  nodded  his  head  and  held  out  his  hand.  Aunt 
Betty  produced  her  pocketbook  and  carefully  counted 
out  the  amount  in  small  change.  When  she  had 
counted  it  twice,  to  be  sure  that  the  amount  was  right, 
she  poured  the  little  heap  of  silver  into  Numa's  out 
stretched  hand.  "  Now,"  said  she,  looking  him 
squarely  in  the  eyes,  "  there  is  your  money.  I  suppose 
that  you  will  spend  it  all  upon  whiskey  instead  of  giv 
ing  it  to  your  wife." 

"  I  have  no  wife,"  answered  Numa,  putting  the 
money  deep  down  in  his  pocket. 

"  But  there  is  whiskey  in  Landry,"  replied  Aunt 
Betty  suggestively. 

Numa  started  to  speak,  but  catching  an  expression 
on  her  face  that  said  plainly.  "  I  know  what  you  are 
going  to  say,"  he  choked  the  lie  that  came  to  his  lips, 

127 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  answered  her  quickly,  his  eyes  never  wavering 
from  hers. 

"  Yes,  there  is  whiskey  in  Landry,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  am  going  to  spend  all  of  this  money  on  it  but  two-bits, 
which  I  will  spend  on  a  present  for  my  girl." 

Aunt  Betty  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  in  astonish 
ment,  and  then  calling  to  the  woman  Millie  to  follow 
her,  she  started  out  with  never  a  word.  When  she 
reached  the  door  she  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  turn 
ing  addressed  the  ragged  Numa  in  a  slow,  even  voice, 
to  his  utter  bewilderment.  "  I  have  this  morning  seen 
in  this  kitchen,"  said  she,  "  the  very  acme  of  truth  and 
mendacity.  If  this  woman  were  white,"  she  continued, 
pointing  to  the  sullen  Millie,  who  stood  beside  her, 
"  those  people  who  believe  that  persons  unlike  each 
other  should  marry,  would  find  in  her  an  ideal  wife  for 
you.  As  it  is,  your  girl,  of  whom  you  spoke  just  now, 
will  get  such  a  truthful  husband  that  she  will  be  miser 
able  to  the  end  of  her  days,  and  she  will  deserve  her 
fate  also  for  being  fool  enough  to  marry  you." 

Aunt  Betty  went  out,  and  the  colored  woman  follow 
ing  her,  slammed  the  door  with  a  loud  bang,  expressive 
of  her  indignation  at  being  forced  to  leave  the  merry 
company  inside. 

Numa  stood  by  the  fire  for  some  time  in  silence, 
jingling  the  money  in  his  pocket  absently,  and  trying  to 
make  out  what  the  lively  old  lady  had  said  to  him. 

Aunt  Felonise  looked  at  him  and  grinned.  "  Ole 
Miss  Betty  a  mighty  fine  talker,"  said  she,  "  but  you 
can't  always  tell  what  she's  talkin'  'bout." 

"  No,"  answered  Numa,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  you 

128 


SOME    BIRDS 

cannot.  Thank  you  for  the  fire,  and  for  selling  the 
birds." 

Aunt  Felonise  nodded  her  head  majestically  in 
acknowledgment  of  his  thanks,  and  Numa,  going  out 
to  his  tired  horse,  turned  its  head  toward  Landry. 
Down  the  long  avenue  of  oaks  he  went,  and  out 
through  the  gate  into  the  public  road,  his  handsome 
face  bright  with  the  anticipation  of  the  good  time  that 
he  would  have  in  the  little  town.  There  before  him  it 
lay,  clearly  seen  over  the  flat,  level  acres  of  Belrive,  its 
big  church  with  its  square  wooden  tower,  its  eight  or  ten 
stores  set  in  a  square  with  the  dwelling  houses  huddling 
close  about  them,  its  grove  of  oaks  swaying  in  the  wind; 
all  standing  forth  from  the  blue  sky  behind  it  like  some 
vast  picture  set  amid  the  brown  and  gray  of  the  fields. 
Landry  had  grown  since  his  boyhood;  had  grown 
slowly,  adding  a  house  or  two  every  year,  building  a 
new  church,  and  finding  it  too  small,  building  a  larger 
one,  until  it  now  stood  a  completed  town;  a  village 
that  would  grow  no  more,  but  would  stand  for  ages 
as  it  now  was,  the  haunt  of  the  idle  on  week  days,  the 
meeting  place  of  hundreds  of  worshipers  on  Sundays. 
In  the  years  to  come  time  might  add  a  little,  a  very 
little  to  its  completed  growth,  but  that  would  be  all, 
and  Landry  lying  sleepily  among  its  fertile  fields  was 
finished,  and  would  increase  no  more.. 

And  so  Numa  rode  along,  now  singing  merrily,  until 
near  Landry  he  met  the  priest,  who  was  taking  his  even 
ing  walk  along  the  dusty  road.  To  him  the  hunter 
bowed  low  as  he  passed,  pulling  off  his  hat,  for  in  all 
the  world  there  was  but  one  man  for  whom  he  had  the 

129 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

least  respect  or  obedience,  and  that  man  was  Father 
Bertrand  of  Landry.  In  his  careless,  shiftless  way 
Numa,  when  sober,  was  a  very  easy  person  to  get  along 
with,  provided  you  did  not  offend  him;  but  once  under 
the  influence  of  the  liquor  he  became  a  fiend  incarnate, 
hating  everything,  venting  his  cruel  anger  upon  any 
one  who  came  his  way,  shrieking  and  cursing  and  fight 
ing  like  some  demon  escaped  from  torment.  It  was 
when  he  was  in  this  condition  that  the  terrified  people 
of  Landry  would  send  for  Father  Bertrand,  and  the 
priest  coming  upon  the  infuriated  Numa,  would  never 
fail  to  calm  him  with  a  word  or  wave  of  his  hand,  and 
after  speaking  to  him  for  a  while  would  leave  him 
docile  and  quiet,  and  crying  in  his  shame  like  a  little 
child. 

Finally  Numa  entered  Landry,  and  stopping  outside 
of  Monsieur  Landry's  store,  he  tied  his  horse  to  the 
rack  in  front,  and  went  stamping  inside  as  a  man  will 
do  who  has  ridden  a  long  way  in  the  cold.  Monsieur 
Landry  was  not  in  the  store.  Politics  had  interested 
him  in  his  declining  years;  he  was  so  completely 
wrapped  up  in  the  game  that  he  never  missed  anything 
of  a  political  flavor;  and  he  carried  with  him  a  great 
many  votes,  for  as  in  the  days  of  old,  he  was  the  leader 
of  Landry  and  of  all  the  adjacent  country. 

His  son  Octave,  who  now  looked  after  the  store, 
came  forward  at  Numa's  entrance  with  a  query. 

"  Something  for  my  girl,"  answered  Numa,  "  some 
thing  worth  two  bits.  Something  fine  and  pretty." 

Octave  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  thrusting 
his  hand  into  a  show  case  brought  forth  a  long  paste- 

130 


SOME    BIRDS 

board  card  upon  which  was  pinned  a  great  variety  of 
cheap  brass  jewelry,  set  with  pieces  of  red  and  blue 
glass,  dull  and  lusterless — poor,  cheap  counterfeits. 

"  Here  you  are,"  cried  he,  displaying  the  card  with  a 
flourish,"  here  is  just  what  you  want,  fine  and  good 
and  only  two  bits." 

Numa  looked  at  the  card  carefully  for  a  moment, 
examined  a  large  brooch — a  twisted  mass  of  tarnished 
metal,  set  with  a  great  red  heart  of  glass,  and  throwing 
down  his  money  said: 

"  I  will  take  this  one.  Wrap  it  up  good  so  that  I 
will  not  break  it." 

Octave  wrapped  up  the  brooch  carefully,  and  handed 
him  the  package.  "Who  is  the  girl,  Numa?"  asked 
he,  his  voice  full  of  awe  and  of  flattery  for  the  hand 
some  man  whose  conquests  were  well  known  at  Landry. 
"  Is  she  like  the  little  girl  Madelaine  that  you " 

Straight  across  the  counter  went  Numa's  hand  for 
the  speaker's  throat,  his  body  quivering  with  anger,  his 
eyes  blazing  with  fury,  with  fierceness,  like  those  of  a 
madman.  Octave,  springing  away  from  him,  cowered, 
trembling  against  the  shelves.  "What  is  it,  Numa?" 
he  whimpered.  "  I  meant  no  harm.  I  did  not  mean  to 
make  you  angry." 

Slowly  Numa  withdrew  his  arm  from  across  the 
counter,  his  breath  coming  short  and  sharp  in  his  anger, 
and  for  a  while  he  stood  silent,  fighting  down  the  rage 
that  was  within  him.  Octave,  still  crouching  against 
the  shelves,  watched  him  with  a  terrified  fascination. 

Finally  Numa  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  picking  up 
the  package,  which  he  had  dropped  in  his  anger,  spoke 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

to  the  trembling  clerk,  his  voice  weak  and  low  with 
suppressed  rage.  "  You  are  a  fool,  Octave,"  said  he. 
"  This  girl  is  not  like  Madelaine.  I  am  going  to  marry 
her  because  she  is  as  good  as  the  holiest  saint  above. 
Is  she  like  Madelaine  do  you  ask,"  he  cried,  his  anger 
rising  again;  "  if  ever  you  speak  to  me  of  my  girl  or  of 
Madelaine  again  I  will  kill  you.  Why  I  did  not  kill 
you  a  moment  ago  I  do  not  know.  You  are  lucky, 
Octave,  very  lucky,  but  people  are  not  always  lucky, 
especially  fools.  Remember  that." 

Octave  made  no  reply,  but  watched  the  angry  man 
depart  in  awed  silence,  and  when  the  door  had  closed 
behind  him,  he  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and  came 
out  from  behind  the  counter  quietly  and  stealthily,  as 
though  afraid  of  the  furious  Numa's  return. 


132 


CHAPTER    III 

AND  A   BOTTLE 

MEANWHILE  Numa  had  again  mounted  his 
horse,  and  was  riding  slowly  to  the  one  bar 
room  of  the  little  town.  It  was  a  low,  white 
washed  building  of  two  stories;  in  front  was  a  tall  fence 
which  served  to  hide  its  wicked  interior  from  the  femi 
nine  eyes  of  Landry. 

As  Numa  rode  the  short  distance  which  separated 
this  barroom,  or  coffee  house,  as  it  was  called,  from  the 
store  of  Monsieur  Landry,  his  brain  was  in  a  tumult, 
whirling  dizzily  from  the  many  emotions  which  were 
within  him.  He  was  angry,  he  was  afraid,  he  was 
penitent,  and  all  because  Octave  had  spoken  a  name  to 
him.  A  name  that  he  had  tried  so  hard  to  forget,  and 
had  forgotten,  burying  it  deep  in  the  shadowy  past; 
too  deep,  he  had  thought,  ever  to  rise  again.  And  now 
in  an  instant  it  had  all  come  back  again  at  the  word  of 
a  mere  boy,  a  fool,  a  silly  fool  who  should  be  punished. 
Numa's  hand  fell  upon  the  whip  at  his  pommel,  and  he 
half-turned  his  horse,  but  the  sight  of  the  low  white 
building  changed  his  determination,  and,  striking  the 
animal  cruelly,  he  went  on. 

At  the  bar  he  paused  for  a  moment  to  buy  a  bottle 
of  whiskey,  which  he  took  with  him  into  the  poker 

133 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

room  upon  the  right.  It  was  a  small  room,  low-ceiled, 
with  dirty  whitewashed  walls  upon  which  some  one 
had  tacked  a  great  many  old  French  newspapers,  and 
in  the  center  of  it  there  was  a  round  table  covered  with 
faded  green  baize  at  which  a  group  of  men  were  seated 
playing  cards. 

At  Numa's  entrance  several  of  the  players  spoke  to 
him,  asking  him  to  join  the  game,  but  paying  no  heed 
to  them  he  dragged  a  chair  into  a  corner  of  the  room, 
and  tilting  it  back  against  the  wall  sat  down,  with  the 
bottle  of  whiskey  in  his  lap,  to  think. 

He  thought  of  the  little  Madelaine,  whom  he  had 
been  so  unwillingly  forced  to  remember,  and  as  he 
thought  his  mind  went  back  to  the  days  when  he  had 
loved  her,  and  the  bottle  in  his  lap  went  many  times  to 
his  lips,  to  drown  the  memories  that  came  to  him. 

He  thought  of  the  house  far  out  in  the  prairie,  with 
its  trees  and  flowers  that  grew  so  lovingly  about  it, 
making  it  an  oasis  in  the  great  desert  of  green  that 
closed  it  in  on  every  side.  He  thought  of  the  garden, 
with  its  odor  of  roses,  of  honeysuckle,  where  he  had 
met  her  in  the  softness  of  the  summer  evening,  leaning 
from  his  saddle  to  speak  to  her  as  she  stood,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hand,  to  look  up  at  him.  He  thought 
of  how  he  had  spoken  to  her,  asking  for  food,  for  a 
place  to  rest  his  tired  body,  and  of  her  answer — of  her 
voice — sweet  and  clear,  and  happy  as  the  birds  about 
her. 

He  could  see  her  plainly,  standing  slim  and  straight 
under  the  great  bushy  china  trees,  her  soft  brown  eyes 
gazing  questioningly  into  his,  her  cheeks  rosy  with 

134 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

blushes,  her  lips  smiling  at  him  as  if  in  welcome.  He 
could  see  the  big  wooden  rice  mortar,  and  the  heavy 
wooden  pestle  with  which  she  had  been  working,  lying 
idle  in  the  shade  at  his  interruption. 

And  now  he  could  see  the  house  with  its  cool  rooms 
and  spotless  floors  and  its  tiny  kitchen,  where  the  girl 
went  to  bring  him  meat  and  drink.  He  could  see  her 
as  she  returned,  bringing  with  her  the  old  couple  with 
whom  she  lived,  who  had  taken  her  to  their  hearts 
when  a  child,  and  had  raised  her  as  tenderly  as  though 
she  had  been  their  own  flesh  and  blood,  when  in  truth, 
she  had  no  kin. 

And  now  he  thought  of  the  hot  fierce  love  for  this 
girl  that  had  filled  his  heart — of  the  longing  for  her 
by  day  and  by  night — of  the  long  rides  into  the  prairie 
to  see  her,  when  the  sun  would  scorch  and  burn  him, 
and  the  little  house  with  its  clustering  trees,  would  seem 
but  a  dot  in  the  shimmering  waves  of  heat. 

Now  he  was  in  the  garden  with  his  love,  mid  the 
faint  scent  of  the  sleeping  flowers,  talking  to  her  softly, 
while  the  moonbeams  made  lights  and  shadows  among 
the  roses  until  their  leaves  seemed  a  marvelous  piece  of 
filmy  lace,  and  the  prairie  lay  about  them  a  shining  sea 
of  silver.  He  thought  of  how  she  had  loved  him,  of 
how  she  had  trusted  him,  telling  him  of  her  simple  life 
and  planning  for  the  happy  future  that  was  never  to 
come. 

And  now  he  thought  of  the  time  when  the  days  were 
shorter  and  cooler,  and  the  ride  to  the  little  house 
would  be  quicker  and  more  pleasant.  He  thought  of 
the  time  when  the  nights  were  cold  in  the  little  garden ; 

135 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

as  cold  as  his  own  heart  had  become,  and  the  roses  were 
dead  and  withered  upon  the  bushes,  as  his  love 
for  the  pretty  Madelaine  was  dead  and  withered — 
the  hot,  fierce  love  that  had  burned  itself  away  like  the 
summer. 

He  remembered  the  last  night  when  he  had  seen  her, 
the  night  when  he  had  decided  never  to  return  to  the 
little  house  so  far  in  the  prairie.  He  could  see  her  as 
she  bade  him  farewell,  waving  her  little  hand  long  after 
he  had  gone,  with  the  lie  that  he  had  told  her  burning 
upon  his  lip  like  a  coal  of  fire.  He  seemed  to  feel  again 
the  cold  wind  of  the  prairie  blowing  hard  against  him 
on  his  long  ride  from  the  little  Madelaine,  he  seemed  to 
hear  again  the  soft  mystic  sounds  of  the  woods  as  he 
rode  into  them  at  dawn,  and  plunged  into  their  cold 
gray  depths,  seeking  sanctuary  and  peace  of  mind  from 
his  guilty  conscience. 

And  now  he  heard  again  the  stories  that  came  to  him 
at  Landry,  the  stories  that  told  of  the  long  waiting  of 
the  little  Madelaine,  of  her  despair  and  sorrow.  The 
story  of  how  she  had  left  the  little  house  and  its  gar 
den  one  night  and  had  gone  far  out  upon  the  great 
prairie,  God  knows  where,  leaving  behind  her  the  old 
couple  to  break  their  hearts  in  the  loneliness  of  her 
going.  He  remembered  how  he  had  bragged  one  day 
in  his  drunkenness  of  his  conquest,  and  the  silent  scorn 
with  which  his  story  had  been  received.  He  thought 
now  of  what  a  fool  he  had  been  to  speak  of  it,  and 
wondered  vaguely  whether  it  would  harm  him  in  his 
quest  for  the  girl  he  loved,  the  girl  that  he  wished  to 
marry. 

136 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

He  found  it  hard  to  have  to  remember  the  little 
Madelaine  after  he  had  tried  so  desperately  to  forget 
her  and  had  succeeded  so  well.  It  had  all  happened 
so  long  ago,  years  ago,  and  now  to  have  it  brought  back 
to  him  by  this  fool  Octave.  He  cursed  him  madly 
under  his  breath,  and  turned  up  the  bottle  to  drink  to 
his  endless  perdition.  It  was  empty,  and  flinging  it 
savagely  to  the  floor  he  lurched  unsteadily  to  his  feet, 
his  brain  reeling.  One  of  the  cardplayers  called  to  him 
asking  him  to  join  the  game,  as  he  staggered  drunkenly 
across  the  floor  in  quest  of  another  bottle. 

Numa  cursed  him  savagely  and  staggered  on  toward 
the  door,  when  a  figure  suddenly  appeared  upon  its 
threshold  that  caused  him  to  stop  and  cry  out  with 
satisfaction,  though  in  an  angry  tone. 

"So  it  is  you  at  last,  is  it?"  he  shouted  fiercely. 
"  So  it  is  you,  is  it,  Jean  Le  Bossu?  And  where  did  you 
come  from?  " 

The  one  in  the  doorway  eyed  him  quietly  for  a 
moment.  He  was  a  strange-looking  man  was  this  Jean 
LeBossu,  with  his  humped  back,  his  long,  strong  arms, 
and  his  short,  crooked  legs  which  seem  to  have  been 
bent  and  twisted  in  the  effort  of  carrying  his  heavy, 
round  body.  As  he  stood  in  the  doorway  with  the 
shadows  of  the  evening  falling  dark  about  him,  he  was 
like  a  great  spider  about  to  emerge  from  its  web,  upon 
some  errand  of  destruction.  But  had  one  come  closer 
to  him,  and  looking  above  his  deformed  body  beheld 
his  white,  peaceful  face,  he  would  have  been  reassured, 
for  the  face  of  Jean  LeBossu  was  pale  and  saint-like 
and  beautifully  molded,  like  that  of  an  angel. 

137 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

It  was  said  by  some  that  God  had  given  him  this 
beautiful  face  in  compensation  for  his  twisted,  crooked 
form  and  the  priest  had  even  preached  a  sermon  about 
it,  but  LeBossu  had  answered  when  they  told  him  about 
it,  that  his  beautiful  face  could  do  him  little  good,  and 
that  he  would  rather  have  a  straighter  body.  He  was 
a  silent  man,  living  deep  in  the  Grand  Woods  with  his 
friend  and  partner,  Numa,  whom  he  followed  about 
most  of  the  time,  and  though  this  strange  partnership 
had  puzzled  many  at  Landry,  its  explanation  was  un 
known.  All  that  was  known  of  him  was  that  he  was 
often  at  his  partner's  side  and  that  the  latter  in  his 
wildest,  most  drunken  moments  would  never  lay  the 
weight  of  his  finger  upon  him,  although  he  would 
curse  and  rage  at  him  furiously. 

The  little  man,  at  Numa's  angry  greeting,  stood  in 
the  doorway  and  smiled  placidly  until  his  partner  stag 
gered  up  to  him,  when  reaching  out  one  of  his  long 
arms  he  dragged  the  drunken  man  into  the  bar  without 
a  word.  Once  inside  he  released  his  hold,  and  after 
looking  at  the  tall,  ragged  figure  before  him  for  a 
moment,  said  in  a  low,  soft  voice:  "  So  you  are  drunk 
again,  Numa  ?  You  told  me  that  you  would  not  drink 
to-day  for  the  girl's  sake." 

At  the  mention  of  the  girl  Numa  ceased  his  cursing, 
and  thrust  a  piece  of  money  into  the  hunchback's  hand. 
"  Buy  some  whiskey,  Jean,"  said  he,  "  and  we  will  go 
upstairs  where  it  is  quiet  and  drink  it.  I  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you." 

Obediently  Jean  writhed  upon  his  crooked  legs  to 
the  bar,  while  Numa,  with  many  a  lurch  and  stagger, 

138 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

led  the  way  up  the  steep,  narrow  stairs.  The  room  that 
they  entered  was  like  the  one  below,  save  for  the  fact 
that  being  beneath  the  eaves,  it  was  much  lower.  It 
was  black  and  dark  also,  and  Jean,  after  groping 
about  for  a  moment,  found  a  piece  of  candle  in  a  broken 
tin  candlestick,  which  he  lit  and  put  upon  the  table. 
Numa,  who  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall,  dragged  a 
chair  to  the  table,  and  sat  down  with  the  bottle  in  front 
of  him.  The  hunchback  stared  at  him  from  the  other 
side,  his  pale  face  upon  a  level  with  the  soiled  green 
baize,  looking  for  all  the  world  as  though  it  had  no 
body  supporting  it,  and  had  been  placed  there  as  a 
ghastly  relic  of  some  execution.  "  What  is  it  that  you 
have  to  tell  me,  Numa?  "  asked  he. 

Numa  smiled  and  pushed  the  bottle  across  the  table. 
"  Drink,"  said  he,  "  it  is  good  news." 

Jean  placed  his  lips  to  the  bottle  and  shoved  it  back 
again.  He  seldom  drank.  "What  is  the  news?"  he 
asked  again  anxiously. 

Numa  drank  deeply  and  drew  his  hand  across  his 
lips.  "  I  sold  my  birds  at  Belrive,"  said  he. 

"Well?"  urged  Jean. 

Numa  drank  again,  and  laughed  stupidly,  passing 
his  hand  across  his  brow. 

"  There  is  an  empty  house  at  Belrive,"  said  he.  "  A 
place  without  a  tenant,  and  I  am  going  to  make  the  old 
man  take  it.  Then  we  will  live  in  Landry,  Jean,  we 
will  live  there,  eh?  The  woods  are  too  far." 

Jean  seemed  perplexed.  "  But  why  do  you  wish  to 
leave  the  woods?"  he  asked.  "Why  do  you  wish 
Aline  to  be  near  Landry?  " 

139 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  question  seemed  to  arouse  the  stupid  Numa,  and 
when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  low  and  earnest.  "  You 
know  that  I  love  Aline,  Jean,  love  her  until  I  am  sick 
with  it,  and  you  know  that  I  am  going  to  marry  her," 
said  he.  The  hunchback  nodded.  "  But  that  is  not 
all,  Jean.  I  want  her  to  love  me  as  I  love  her,  to  tell 
me  so  and  mean  it.  Why  do  you  think  I  left  the  old 
man's  house  and  lived  with  you?  Was  it  because  I 
wished  to  leave  her?  Would  she  love  me  if  she  saw  me 
come  to  the  woods  as  I  shall  come  there  to-night,  drunk 
and  crazy?  No,  Jean,  no,  she  would  hate  me.  I  know 
that  she  does  not  love  me  now  as  I  wish  her  to,  but  she 
shall  some  day,  and  on  that  day  I  will  marry  her  if  I 
have  to  kill  Telesse  to  do  it.  You  know  me,  Jean; 
you  know  that  I  mean  what  I  say." 

Numa's  voice  had  risen  in  his  excitement  and  Jean, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  motioned  him  to  be  quiet. 
"  Yes,  I  know  all  this,  Numa,"  said  he  wearily.  You 
have  told  it  to  me  a  thousand  times  before.  But 
why  do  you  wish  Aline  near  Landry?  How  will 
it  help  you?  She  will  hear  of  your  drinking,  I  am 
sure." 

Numa's  eyes  grew  crafty,  and  he  leaned  far  across 
the  table  wagging  his  finger  before  the  hunchback's 
face.  u  I  am  no  fool,  Jean,"  chuckled  he,  "  I  know 
women.  How  many  girls  are  there  in  the  woods,  eh? 
None.  How  many  are  there  at  Landry?  A  great 
many.  When  Aline  comes  to  Belrive  I  shall  go  about 
with  all  the  girls  at  Landry.  I  shall  go  in  fine  clothes 
and  they  will  follow  me.  One  of  them  I  shall  make 
love  me,  and  of  her  I  shall  make  a  fool,  for  there  is 

140 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

a  debt  between  us.  And  will  Aline  hear  of  this?  Will 
she  be  jealous,  eh?  Am  I  a  fool,  Jean,  when  I  want 
Aline  near  Landry?  " 

The  scorn  upon  the  hunchback's  face  was  lost  upon 
his  drunken  partner.  "  And  what  will  you  do  about 
the  whiskey?"  he  asked. 

Numa  patted  the  bottle  in  front  of  him  lovingly,  and 
took  a  deep  draught  of  its  contents.  "  I  will  see  about 
the  whiskey,  Jean,"  said  he  thickly.  "  I  will  see  about 
it.  I  am  no  fool,  am  I,  Jean?  Why  don't  you  speak? 
Are  you  dumb  ?  " 

"  No,  Numa,"  said  the  little  man  slowly,  "  I  am  not 
dumb,  but  I  wish  just  now  that  I  were  blind." 

"  Do  not  talk  like  a  fool,"  said  Numa  angrily,  "  I 
heard  one  fool  talk  to-day  and  that  is  enough."  Then, 
the  events  of  the  afternoon  coming  back  to  him,  he 
became  furious.  Cursing  the  luckless  Octave  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  he  knocked  the  bottle  to  the  floor,  where 
it  broke,  and  lay  a  mass  of  shattered  glass  and  reeking 
spirits. 

Numa  gazed  at  this  catastrophe  in  silence,  his  rage 
increasing  every  moment.  "  I  am  going  downstairs  to 
get  another  bottle,"  said  he  finally  with  an  oath. 
"  Wait  here  until  I  come  back." 

The  hunchback  watched  him  stagger  out  of  the 
room,  with  a  sinister  smile  upon  his  pale  face,  and  in  a 
moment  he  heard  the  drunken  man  lurching  heavily 
down  the  narrow  stairway. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  would  fall  and  break  your 
wicked  neck,"  said  he  in  a  whisper,  his  brown  eyes 
blazing.  From  the  bar  below  there  came  a  heavy 

141 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

tramping  of  many  feet,  mingled  with  loud  shouts  and 
drunken  laughter. 

The  hunchback  leaned  his  twisted  body  across  the 
table,  stretching  out  one  of  his  long  arms  before  him. 
"  If  one  of  you  drunken  men  would  only  kill  Numa," 
he  wailed,  "  how  I  would  bless  you.  How  I  wish  that 
I  could  do  so  myself,  but  I  cannot  send  my  soul  to 
hell.  No,  no,  I  cannot  do  it !  I  am  not  brave  enough. 
I  am  living  my  life  in  hell  now,  I  cannot  die  to  find 
more  suffering.  It  would  be  too  much,  too  much,"  he 
sobbed,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  his  poor,  mis 
shapen  body  quivering  with  grief  and  passion. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  thus  in  the  flickering  light  of 
the  candle,  and  then  a  great  tramping  and  shouting 
upon  the  stairway  outside  caused  him  to  spring  to  his 
feet  with  a  start. 

"  So  Numa  brings  friends  with  him,"  said  he  to  him 
self.  "  His  anger  must  have  left  him." 

From  the  stairway  came  the  voice  of  Numa  calling 
hoarsely.  "  Open  the  door,  Jean,"  he  was  crying.  u  It 
is  dark  and  I  cannot  see.  I  have  some  friends  who 
wish  to  see  you.  Open  the  door,  Jean,  open  the  door." 

The  hunchback  threw  open  the  door  and  stood  upon 
its  threshold  bowing  grandly  in  mock  ceremony. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  my  friends,"  said  he.  "  Le 
Bossu  is  glad  to  see  you." 

Into  the  room  there  came  the  drunken  Numa,  fol 
lowed  by  four  great  hairy  men,  whose  dark,  sunburned 
faces  told  of  a  free  life  in  the  open  air. 

"  These  are  my  friends,  Jean,"  said  Numa.  "  They 
are  from  the  swamp,  and  we  will  drink  with  them." 

142 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

The  four  big  men  looked  at  the  little  hunchback, 
who  stood  before  them  in  silence,  the  pity  that  they 
felt  for  him  softening  their  frank,  honest  features. 

"  We  are  glad  to  meet  Le  Bossu,"  said  one  of  them 
gently.  "  We  have  come  from  the  swamp  to  enjoy 
ourselves.  You  will  drink  with  us,  I  hope,  and  will 
sing  and  amuse  yourself." 

Le  Bossu  nodded.  "  Let  us  sit  at  the  table,"  said 
he,  "  and  be  merry." 

The  four  big  men  seated  themselves  clumsily,  placing 
their  bottles  before  them,  while  the  hunchback,  with  a 
spring,  seated  himself  upon  the  table  where  he  might 
see  and  be  seen  by  all. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  Numa  lay  helpless,  his  head 
upon  his  breast,  his  arms  hanging  loosely,  in  the  last 
stages  of  drunkenness. 

"  Come,  Numa,"  called  the  swamper  who  had 
spoken  before,  "  give  us  a  toast.  It  is  growing  late 
and  we  must  be  riding  soon."  He  filled  a  glass  and 
held  it  out  toward  the  drunken  man  as  he  spoke. 

The  sight  of  the  liquor  seemed  to  revive  the 
helpless  Numa,  and,  seizing  the  glass,  he  held  it 
aloft,  his  eyes  rolling  wildly.  "I  will  give  you 
a  toast,"  he  cried  with  a  shriek  of  laughter — a  loud, 
fiendish  shriek  of  laughter,  so  wild  and  so  devilish  that 
the  big  men  shuddered  at  the  sound  of  it.  "  I  will  give 
you  a  toast,  but  first  let  me  tell  you  a  story." 

The  swampers  turned  in  their  chairs  and  gazed  at 
him  expectantly.  The  hunchback  leaned  forward,  his 
face  twitching  with  emotion.  Numa  steadied  himself 
against  a  chair  and  set  his  glass  upon  the  table. 

143 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND   WOODS 

"  Listen  now,"  said  he  slowly,  "  to  my  story."  And 
there  in  the  white,  low-ceilinged  room,  with  its  dim, 
smoky  candle,  he  told  the  story  of  the  little  Madelaine. 
Told  it  with  the  oaths  and  words  that  only  his  black 
soul  could  know  of,  while  the  big  men  sat  with  the  red 
flush  of  shame  flooding  their  swarthy  features,  and  the 
little  hunchback  gazed  before  him  with  a  face  that 
was  set  and  white,  and  still  as  death. 

Never  a  sound  disturbed  the  story  of  the  drunken 
man,  and  when  he  had  finished  all  was  silent  save  for 
the  quick  breathing  of  the  swampers. 

Numa  seized  his  glass,  and  again  raised  it  high. 
"  Drink,"  he  cried  wildly.  "  Drink  to  the  little  Made 
laine.  Where  she  is,  God  knows,  but  drink  to  her 
once,  and  then  forget  her  as  I  shall  do." 

The  big  swamper  knocked  the  glass  from  his  hand 
with  an  oath,  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Drink,  do 
you  say,"  he  cried,  "  drink  with  a  dog  like  you?  I 
could  not  call  myself  a  man  if  I  were  to  do  so." 

For  a  moment  Numa  gazed  at  his  glass,  which  had 
rolled  into  a  corner,  in  a  dazed,  stupid  way,  and  then 
the  significance  of  it  all  coming  to  him,  he  drew  a  long 
knife  from  inside  his  blouse,  and  sprang  at  the 
swamper. 

"  I  will  kill  you  for  that,"  he  cried  fiercely,  as  he 
lunged  forward. 

The  big  man  seized  a  chair  and  swung  it  about  his 
head.  Straight  and  true  he  brought  it  down  in  the  face 
of  the  furious  Numa,  who,  crashing  to  the  floor,  over 
turned  the  table  and  left  the  room  in  total  darkness. 

The  hunchback,  who  had  retreated  to  a  corner  of  the 

144 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

room,  heard  the  crash,  the  scrambling  of  many  feet 
toward  the  door,  the  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps  upon 
the  stairway,  the  banging  of  a  door  downstairs,  the 
sound  of  galloping  horses,  and  a  shout  borne  back  upon 
the  wind.  The  swampers  had  ridden  on. 

Le  Bossu  passed  his  hand  across  his  face  and  tried 
to  think  in  the  blackness  of  the  room.  It  had  all  been 
so  sudden  that  he  was  dazed  and  breathless.  He  won 
dered  if  they  had  killed  Numa.  He  hoped,  he  prayed 
that  they  had,  and  yet  he  feared  to  look. 

Drawing  a  match  from  his  pocket  he  scratched  it 
fearfully.  As  the  little  flame  sprang  into  life,  he  saw 
the  candle  which  had  rolled  near  him,  and  straightening 
its  flattened  wick  he  lit  it,  glancing  cautiously  toward 
the  center  of  the  room. 

Sprawling  amid  the  wreckage  of  broken  glass,  the 
table  pinning  him  down,  lay  Numa,  his  eyes  closed,  his 
face  covered  with  blood,  which  shone  black  in  the 
candle  light.  Under  his  head  was  a  little  black  pool 
that  wound  its  way  in  a  ghastly  stream  across  the  dirty 
floor. 

The  hunchback  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Thank  God/' 
said  he.  "  Numa  is  dead." 

Creeping  softly  to  the  silent  figure  he  bent  over  it 
and  sank  his  head  upon  its  breast,  listening  eagerly 
amid  the  silence  of  the  room. 

Slowly  he  raised  himself,  his  face  white  and  drawn 
with  despair  and  disappointment,  and  crept  painfully 
to  his  place  in  the  corner.  Long  he  gazed  at  the  pros 
trate  figure  before  him,  the  tears  of  sorrow  on  his 
cheeks,  until  his  glance  rested  upon  something  that  lay 

145 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

quite  near  him,  gleaming  softly  in  the  shadow  of  the 
table.  It  was  the  knife  of  the  desperate  Numa,  lying 
where  he  had  dropped  it  in  his  downfall,  its  polished 
blade  dimly  reflecting  the  soft  light  of  the  candle. 

The  hunchback  gazed  at  it  as  though  fascinated, 
his  long  arm  reaching  out  toward  it  as  though  drawn 
there  by  some  irresistible  force;  drawn  toward  it  as 
surely  as -the  magnet  draws  the  steel.  Picking  it -up 
with  trembling  fingers,  he  crept  over  to  the  still  figure 
again,  and  for  a  moment  stood  over  it. 

"  Why  should  I  not,"  he  gasped,  his  throat  parched 
and  dry.  "  He  is  nearly  dead  now.  It  would  hardly 
be  killing  him." 

Slowly  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  raised  the  knife 
above  the  prostrate  figure,  his  face  black  with  hatred, 
his  breath  coming  in  short,  hard  gasps.  "  For  the  little 
Madelaine,"  he  panted  hoarsely. 

Suddenly  there  came  through  the  window  a  great 
stream  of  moonlight,  filling  the  room  with  a  flood  of 
shimmering  silver,  that  fell  across  the  silent  figure,  and 
made  it  less  horrible  with  its  softness.  The  knife  fell 
from  the  hunchback's  uplifted  hand,  making  a  great 
clatter  in  the  silent  room.  He  clutched  the  crucifix 
inside  his  blouse  with  the  strength  of  despair,  his  eyes 
wide  with  fear  and  wonder. 

"  It  is  a  warning — a  sign  from  Heaven — may  God 
forgive,"  he  murmured  brokenly. 

Outside,  the  wind,  which  had  gone  away  at  sunset, 
came  back  again  with  renewed  violence.  On  it  went 
past  the  little  town  of  Landry,  roaring  and  moaning 
about  the  low,  white  house  like  some  savage  beast, 


AND    A    BOTTLE 

causing  Old  Pierre,  the  proprietor,  to  tremble  at  its 
fierceness,  and  the  drinkers  at  his  bar  to  pause  in  their 
revelry  and  heed  it  for  a  moment;  but  in  the  little  room 
under  the  eaves,  the  hunchback,  kneeling  in  his  corner, 
mumbled  his  prayer  and  heard  it  no  more  than  the 
figure  that  lay  so  stark  and  still  in  the  cold,  white 
moonlight. 


147 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  GRAND  WOODS 

FAR  down  in  the  Grand  Woods,  set  deep  amid  its 
leafy  solitude,  was  the  home  of  old  Telesse,  a 
tiny  bit  of  civilization,  of  the  work  of  man  in 
the  wilderness  of  the  forest.  For  years  it  had  stood 
there,  the  tall,  live  oaks  that  formed  the  outer  edge  of  the 
forest  clustering  about  it  thickly,  as  though  they  would 
close  in  together  and  crush  this  feeble  intruder,  this 
shaky,  rotten  thing  of  wood  and  clay  that  marred  their 
beauty,  and  stole  from  them  the  rich,  sweet  earth  that 
was  their  birthright. 

But  as  the  years  went  on  the  little  clearing  about  the 
cabin  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  the  trees  were  forced 
back  farther  and  farther,  until  they  stood  now  and 
gazed  at  the  little  house  from  a  distance,  shaking  their 
tall  tops  angrily  when  the  cold  winter  winds  blew  in 
from  the  prairie,  towering  grim  and  silent  in  the  still 
summer  days  as  though  pondering  upon  some  ven 
geance  that  would  be  theirs  in  the  years  to  come. 

It  was  a  very  small  house,  set  high  upon  four  great 
cypress  logs,  lest  the  rising  waters  of  the  swamp  behind 
should  sweep  it  away  from  its  clearing  and  hurl  it 
battered  and  broken  at  the  feet  of  the  live  oaks  that 

148 


THE    GRAND   WOODS 

longed  for  its  destruction.  It  had  also  never  been 
painted  save  by  the  weather,  which,  taking  compassion 
on  it  in  its  first  state  of  yellow  barrenness,  had  colored 
it  with  the  softest  shade  of  silvery  gray,  and  had 
trimmed  and  bordered  it  with  the  greenest  and  bright 
est  of  lichens,  leaving  it  as  perfect  in  tone  and  color 
as  any  tree  in  the  forest. 

In  front  of  the  house  there  was  a  little  garden,  where 
a  few  vegetables  and  a  great  many  wild  flowers  grew, 
fighting  hard  for  their  lives  amid  the  rank  weeds  and 
grass  that  choked  and  oppressed  them.  Reaching  out 
from  this  garden  was  the  clearing  that  the  old  man  had 
made,  the  outcome  of  many  years  of  hard,  endless 
work  in  the  open,  stretching  away  to  the  border  of  the 
woods,  a  long,  flat  sweep  of  plowed  and  furrowed  land, 
dotted  about  with  the  blackened  stumps  of  the  live 
oaks  that  had  grown  there. 

Here  it  was  that  the  old  Telesse  planted  his  corn 
and  his  cotton,  which,  rooting  deep  in  the  virgin  soil, 
grew  strong  and  tall  and  straight,  yielding  richly  to  the 
one  that  had  planted  them  in  this  wilderness.  Here  in 
the  spring  one  found  the  dark  expanse  of  forest  broken 
by  a  waving  mass  of  tender  green,  while  in  the  summer 
the  ground  would  be  white  with  the  cotton  bolls  that 
grew  as  cool,  as  pure,  and  as  fleecy  as  the  clouds  above 
them. 

A  high  rail  fence  enclosed  the  house  and  the  clearing, 
separating  them  from  the  road  that  ran  alongside,  and 
across  this  road,  stretching  dark  and  silent  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see  was  the  cypress  swamp,  a  monstrous 
forest  of  thickly  growing  trees,  vast,  impenetrable  and 

149 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

trackless;  the  home  of  the  snake,  the  alligator  and  the 
innumerable  writhing,  crawling  things  that  hid  in  its 
black  sluggish  waters  from  the  light  of  Heaven. 

Here  one  found  the  shiny  cypress  knees  pushing  their 
way  from  the  oily  water,  in  emulation  of  their  parent 
tree,  the  green  slime  clinging  closely  about  them,  as 
though  to  drag  them  back  into  the  gloomy  depths  from 
which  they  had  arisen.  Here  one  was  aware  of  the 
weird  dead  silence  of  the  swamp,  the  silence  which 
leaves  one  lonely  and  afraid,  unbroken  save  by  the  fall 
of  a  branch  in  the  murky  water,  or  the  dreary  moan 
ing  of  the  wind;  the  silence  which  makes  one  long 
to  shout  and  scream  aloud  for  the  joy  of  hearing 
something  living,  something  human,  in  the  deathly 
stillness. 

Running  along  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  separating 
it  from  the  higher  land  ran  the  road,  an  indistinct 
track  amid  the  green  carpet  of  the  forest,  and  on  this 
road  in  the  hazy  light  of  the  early  morning  was  old 
Telesse  himself,  his  white  head  bent  low  as  he  studied 
the  ground  before  him. 

All  along  the  road  the  soft  sod  was  trampled  and 
torn,  showing  great  brown  scars  in  the  bosom  of  the 
earth,  scars  that  had  been  made  by  the  heavy  hoofs  of 
swiftly  running  horses. 

"  There  were  four  of  them,  and  they  were  going 
very  fast,"  said  the  old  man  aloud,  as  he  straightened 
up.  "  One  was  Numa,  and  one  was  Jean,  but  who 
were  the  other  two?  " 

He  stood  silent  for  a  moment  as  though  expecting 
some  one  to  answer  his  question,  but  the  only  response 

150 


THE    GRAND   WOODS 

to  his  query  being  the  song  of  the  birds  he  turned 
toward  the  little  house,  his  heavy  shoes  wet  and  glisten 
ing  with  the  dew  of  the  early  morning. 

On  he  went  through  the  sodden  grass,  until  he  came 
to  the  stile  that  crossed  the  high  rail  fence,  and  mount 
ing  it  he  stood  gazing  far  down  the  leafy  road  that 
led  to  the  open  country. 

Far  away  in  the  distance  he  could  see  the  figure  of  a 
girl  moving  slowly  away  from  him,  a  tiny  spot  of  blue 
and  white  amid  the  green  aisles  of  the  forest.  The  old 
man  stood  looking  down  the  road  long  after  the  girl 
had  vanished  from  his  sight,  his  wrinkled  face  troubled, 
his  hard,  calloused  hands  plucking  at  the  coarse  cloth  of 
his  blouse  in  his  perplexity.  Slowly  he  seated  himself 
upon  the  topmost  step  of  the  stile,  and  sat  staring 
before  him  in  an  attitude  of  utter  dejection. 

"  Aline,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  Aline  Telesse,  Aline 
nothing,  Aline  nobody."  He  laughed  harshly.  "  What 
am  I  to  do  with  her?  Numa  says  that  he  will  marry 
her,  he  swears  it,  and  if  I  prevent  him  he  will  tell.  And 
me,  what  becomes  of  me?  But  that  will  be  no  affair  of 
his.  And  what  if  I  let  him  marry  her?  I  shall  break 
my  promise  and  my  soul  shall  be  damned.  Again  that 
will  be  no  affair  of  his." 

He  sat  for  a  long  time,  his  head  bowed  deep  in 
thought.  A  venturesome  rabbit  crept  out  of  the  grass 
on  the  roadside,  and  hopping  up  to  the  stile,  stood 
fearfully  gazing  at  the  silent  figure  upon  its  top. 
From  the  woods  came  the  call  of  the  birds,  the  sweet, 
clear  notes  of  the  cardinal,  the  shrill  scream  of  the 
jay,  the  long,  glorious  trill  of  the  mocking  bird,  rising 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

upon  the  air  like  some  glorious  hymn  of  thanksgiving 
for  the  gift  of  the  beautiful  day. 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  wearily,  scaring  the 
rabbit  into  the  crisp,  dead  weeds  at  the  edge  of  the 
field. 

"Aline,"  said  he  bitterly.  "Aline  of  the  Grand 
Woods!  What  is  she?  A  Cajun.  What  does  she 
know?  Nothing.  Ah,  M'sieu,"  he  cried,  raising  his 
eyes  to  the  blue  sky  above  him,  "  I  promised  you  so 
much,  and  I  have  done  so  little,  but  I  could  do  no 
more.  I  had  no  money,  no  place  to  live.  I  could  do 
nothing.  Forgive  me,  M'sieu,  forgive  me,  for  there 
is  one  promise  left  and  I  shall  keep  it.  Numa  shall 
never  have  Aline,  I  promise  you.  Yes,  I  promise  you 
that,  even  though  I  die  for  it." 

Once  more  he  looked  down  the  road,  and  then  shak 
ing  his  head  he  slowly  descended  the  stile  into  his  small 
front  yard,  where  he  was  soon  busy  among  the  few 
withered  plants  that  grew  there.  As  he  worked,  his 
active  movements  telling  of  a  great  amount  of  health 
and  strength  despite  his  age,  he  seemed  a  very  cheerful 
old  man,  and  not  in  the  least  like  the  disconsolate  figure 
that  had  so  lately  sat  upon  the  top  of  the  stile. 

The  old  man's  mind  was  at  peace,  for  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  quieting  his  conscience  for  the  time  being, 
had  succeeded  in  putting  his  trouble  away  from  him  for 
a  little  while,  as  he  had  done  for  years.  Ever  since  his 
master's  death  he  had  been  troubled,  thinking  of  the 
promise  that  he  had  made,  swearing  that  he  would 
keep  it,  and  in  his  heart  he  would  mean  to  do  what 
he  had  sworn. 

152 


THE    GRAND   WOODS 

For  years  he  had  seen  the  cunning  Numa  spreading 
his  nets  to  catch  the  pretty  Aline,  sly  and  cunning,  giv 
ing  the  girl  no  cause  for  finding  harm  in  him,  hiding 
his  wickedness  as  carefully  as  a  miser  hides  his  gold. 
For  years  he  had  seen  the  cruel  imposter  come  day  by 
day  to  the  little  house  in  the  clearing,  his  handsome  face 
flushed  with  passion,  smiling  and  talking  to  the  girl 
with  many  bits  of  idle  flattery  and  words  of  praise  that 
fell  upon  her  simple  heart  unheeded,  leaving  no  harm 
ful  touch  of  vanity  behind  them.  For  years  he  had 
sworn  that  Numa  should  come  no  more,  that  he  would 
tell  the  girl  of  his  wickedness,  of  his  hypocrisy,  only  to 
break  his  oath,  to  cast  his  solutions  from  him  in  quak 
ing  terror  at  one  word,  one  threat,  from  the  tyrant. 

And  so  the  years  had  gone  by,  and  the  girl  had 
grown  as  fair  and  as  beautiful  as  any  of  the  flowers 
that  grew  in  the  forest,  and  Numa  was  half  crazy  with 
his  love  for  her,  bullying  and  threatening  the  old  man 
into  angry  silence  whenever  he  opposed  him ;  while  the 
old  man,  swearing  to  keep  his  oath,  from  day  to  day 
calmed  and  soothed  his  troubled  conscience  into  an 
angry  silence  not  unlike  his  own. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  the  old  man's 
work  was  nearly  done  when  the  figure  of  a  horseman 
coming  down  the  road  arrested  his  attention.  Lean 
ing  upon  his  hoe  he  watched  this  horseman  approach, 
an  amused  smile  upon  his  wrinkled  face.  Perched 
upon  the  back  of  a  shaggy  pony  was  a  little  dwarfed 
man,  whose  short  legs  clutching  desperately  at  the 
pony's  sides  were  unable  to  keep  his  heavy  body  in  the 
saddle,  as  his  jolting  from  side  to  side  and  into  the  air 

153 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

seemed  to  certify.  Arriving  at  the  garden  he  pulled 
in  his  horse  with  a  quick  jerk  that  nearly  unseated  him, 
and  waving  his  hand  cheeringly  to  the  old  man,  "  Com 
ment  qa  va!  "  cried  he. 

The  old  man  leaned  over  the  fence  and  shook  hands 
with  him,  speaking  to  him  in  French.  "  How  are  you, 
Jean?  "  said  he.  "  Where  is  Numa?  " 

"  Numa  is  up  the  road  waiting,"  said  the  little  man. 
"  He  was  drunk  last  night  and  was  hurt.  He  does  not 
wish  Aline  to  see  him,  so  he  sent  me  ahead  to  draw  her 
away  when  he  passes  by." 

"  Aline  is  not  here,"  answered  the  old  man  slowly. 
"  She  went  early  this  morning  to  Madame  Joe,  who 
is  teaching  her  to  spin.  She  will  not  be  back  until 
near  sunset." 

Le  Bossu  smiled.  "  Then  I  will  ride  back  with 
her,"  said  he.  "  Now  I  must  call  Numa." 

Placing  his  fingers  to  his  lips  he  whistled  thrice,  and 
Numa  came  out  from  his  hiding  place  among  the  trees, 
his  brown  face  swathed  in  bandages,  between  the  white 
edges  of  which  his  black  eyes  shone  angrily.  Pulling 
up  his  horse  next  to  Jean's,  he  addressed  him  shortly, 
nodding  carelessly  to  the  old  man,  who  stood  eyeing 
the  white  bandages  in  wonder.  u  Is  Aline  here?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No,"  answered  the  old  man,  "  she  has  gone  to 
Madame  Joe's." 

"  I  did  not  ask  you,"  said  Numa  ungraciously,  "  let 
Jean  speak  when  he  is  spoken  to.  How  long  will  Aline 
be  at  Madame  Joe's?  " 

"  All  day,"  answered  the  old  man  quietly.  "  You 

154 


THE    GRAND    WOODS 

are  in  a  bad  humor  to-day,  Numa.  What  is  the 
matter?" 

Numa  put  his  hand  to  his  bandaged  head,  and  then 
pointed  toward  Landry.  "  Over  there,"  said  he,  "  I 
was  hurt,  I  was  struck  with  a  chair  and  beaten. 
Beaten  by  four  men,  four  big  men,  any  one  of  whom 
would  have  been  enough  for  me.  And  all  because  I 
asked  a  toast.  Think  of  it.  Four  great  men,  four 
swampers,  the  cowards.  But  I  have  sworn  an  oath 
to  make  them  pay  for  it,  and  pay  for  it  they  will.  They 
passed  here,  of  course,  their  tracks  are  all  around. 
But  come,  Jean,  we  must  be  going.  Aline  is  away  and 
the  road  is  clear." 

Gathering  up  his  reins,  he  turned  his  horse  prepara 
tory  to  going,  when  the  hunchback  called  to  him. 
"Mais  Numa,"  cried  he,  "  I  thought  that  you  wished 
to  speak  to  Telesse." 

Numa  swung  his  horse  about  quickly.  "I  am  a 
fool,"  said  he.  "  I  had  forgotten.  Since  last  night  I 
can  think  of  nothing  but  my  hurt.  You  know,  Telesse, 
that  I  have  spoken  to  you  about  going  to  Landry  to 
live." 

The  old  man  nodded  and  his  face  grew  grave. 

"  You  told  me  that  you  had  no  house  to  live  in 
there,"  continued  Numa. 

Again  the  old  man  nodded  his  head,  and  his  face 
grew  graver  still. 

"  Well,"  cried  Numa  triumphantly,  "  I  have  found 
you  a  place  at  Belrive,  M'sieu  Gordon's  plantation. 
There  is  a  big  house  there  that  is  vacant  with  plenty  of 
land  about  it,  and  he  will  let  you  take  the  place  on 

155 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

shares.       What    do    you     say    to     that?      You     will 
move,  eh?  " 

The  old  man  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  trying  in 
vain  to  call  up  his  courage,  to  speak  harshly  and  refuse 
this  question  that  was  a  command,  and  when  he  finally 
spoke  his  voice  was  beseeching. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Numa,"  said  he  timidly,  "  I  must 
think  about  it.  I  must  see  M'sieu  Gordon.  I  must 
have  time,  I  must  have  time.  Aline  would  be  pleased, 
for  then  she  could  go  to  school,  but  she  would  miss 
the  woods  sadly.  And  me — Ah !  Numa,  all  that  I  have 
in  the  world  is  here.  Give  me  time.  Give  me  time." 

Numa  shrugged  his  shoulders  indifferently.  "  Very 
well,"  said  he,  "  take  your  time.  You  will  have  until 
the  planting  season  to  think  the  matter  over.  Take 
your  time,  Telesse,  and  then  decide  whichever  way  you 
think  is  best.  I  guess  you  know  which  way  is  best,  eh?  " 

To  this  the  old  man  answered  nothing  and  for  a 
while  the  three  men  were  silent;  Numa  thinking  of  the 
life  that  would  be  his  in  Landry;  Telesse  praying  for 
some  deliverance  from  this  evil  that  was  to  befall  him; 
the  little  hunchback  wondering  what  power  it  was  that 
made  this  strong  old  man  obey  his  wicked  partner  as 
though  he  were  a  little  child. 

Finally  Numa  picked  up  his  reins.  "  I  am  going," 
he  announced  with  a  yawn.  "  Tell  Aline  that  I  have 
been  thrown  by  my  horse  and  hurt.  Tell  her  that  he 
dragged  me  and  cut  my  face  against  the  ground.  Do 
you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  man  dully,  "  I  will  tell 
her." 

156 


THE    GRAND   WOODS 

Numa  suddenly  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and 
brought  forth  a  package  which  he  tossed  to  the  ground. 
"  Give  that  to  Aline  also,"  said  he.  "  I  had  almost 
forgotten  it.  Tell  her  that  I  bought  it  for  her  and  that 
it  cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  Do  you  understand?  " 

The  old  man  nodded  and  thrust  the  package  into 
his  pocket,  his  hands  shaking  nervously.  "  Why  is  it 
that  you  wish  me  to  go  to  Belrive?  Why  do  you  want 
Aline  to  be  there?  "  he  asked  timidly. 

Numa  laughed.  u  That  is  my  business, "  answered 
he.  "  Jean  knows,  perhaps  he  will  tell  you  some  day. 
But  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  cried  passionately, 
"  Aline  is  going  to  love  me  as  I  love  her,  I  swear  it. 
Why  should  she  not?  Am  I  not  tall  and  well-formed 
and  handsome?  She  shall  love  me,  and  on  the  day  that 
she  tells  me  so  I  shall  marry  her.  This  I  swear  also 
and  this  I  will  bring  about  even  though  it  costs  your  life 
to  do  it,"  and  calling  to  Jean  he  rode  away,  leaving  the 
old  man  to  stare  wonderingly  after  him. 


157 


CHAPTER    V 

ANGELE  OF  ANSE  LE  VERT 

THE  sun  was  low  in  the  western  sky  and  the  forest 
aisles  were  gray  when  Le  Bossu  set  out  from 
his  cabin  to  meet  Aline.  Living  as  he  did,  deep 
in  the  heart  of  the  woods  and  far  from  the  old  man's 
clearing,  he  yet  found  time  to  see  the  girl  often,  for  he 
loved  her  very  dearly. 

Silent  and  morose  with  others,  he  would  follow  her 
about  all  day,  telling  her  stories,  making  her  many 
things  from  bits  of  wood  and  of  string,  amusing  her  in 
a  thousand  different  ways.  In  all  the  world  there 
seemed  to  be  no  one  for  whom  he  cared  as  he  did  for 
this  girl. 

The  earliest  flowers  of  the  spring,  the  first  snipe  in 
the  marsh,  the  soonest  ripened  fruit  of  the  muscadine, 
were  always  hers,  for  Jean,  little  Jean  Le  Bossu,  knew 
the  woods  and  all  that  was  within  them  as  did  no  one 
in  all  that  country. 

No  one  knew  where  the  best  cherries  grew  as  did 
Jean ;  no  one  knew  where  the  big  French  ducks  and  the 
little  teals  dived  and  swam  in  the  early  morning  as  did 
Jean,  and  who  but  Jean  could  tell  where  the  biggest 
fish  in  the  bayou  lay,  safe  and  snug  in  the  cool  black 

158 


ANGELE    OF   ANSE    LE    VERT 

water  beneath  the  live  oaks  ?  Who  knew  what  the  great 
trees  said  when  the  strong  wind  moved  them  into  voice ; 
who  knew  of  what  the  tall  grasses  of  the  marsh  whis 
pered  when  the  salt  winds  murmured  through  their 
greenness ;  who  knew  the  stories  that  the  smoothly  flow 
ing  waters  of  the  bayou  told  as  they  made  their  way 
noiselessly  toward  the  sea;  who  knew  all  these  things 
but  Jean,  little  Jean  Le  Bossu? 

And  all  these  things  he  told  the  girl,  showing  her 
many  secrets  of  the  woods,  and  she  in  her  turn  loved  him 
dearly  and  thought  that  in  all  the  world  there  was  no 
one  like  Jean,  her  Jean,  with  his  face  of  an  angel  and  his 
body  of  a  demon. 

And  so  Jean  rode  on  through  the  shadows  of  the 
forest  until  he  saw  a  spot  of  white  coming  down  the 
road  toward  him.  Stopping  his  pony  he  climbed  down 
to  the  ground  and  waited  for  the  girl  to  come  up  to  him, 
his  face  glowing  with  that  greatest  of  all  pleasures,  the 
pleasure  of  anticipation. 

Near  him,  at  one  side  of  the  road,  lying  like  a  great 
jewel  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  was  a  little  pond,  its 
blue  bosom  covered  with  dead  and  withered  water  lilies 
that  rustled  softly  when  the  wind  passed  among  them. 
Standing  high  amid  the  withered  lilies,  their  round, 
heavy  seed  pods  upturned  to  the  sun,  their  brown,  wrin 
kled  stems  cracked  and  peeling,  were  the  graine-a-volee, 
a  bare,  tattered  memory  of  their  former  life  and 
sweetness. 

The  little  hunchback,  leaving  his  pony  to  browse 
along  the  roadside,  went  over  to  the  pond  and  plucked 
a  handful  of  them. 

159 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

'  They  may  amuse  Aline,"  said  he  to  himself,  rat 
tling  them  loudly,  "  and  I  can  make  her  a  necklace  of 
the  seeds." 

Looking  down  the  road  he  saw  the  girl,  who  was 
now  quite  near,  running  toward  him,  and  he  waved  his 
withered  graine-a-volee  high  above  his  head  in  greeting. 
On  she  came,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  hands  clenched 
at  her  sides,  as  fresh  and  as  sweet  as  the  salt  wind  that 
blew  in  from  the  marshes,  as  strong  and  as  slim  as  the 
young  oaks  of  the  forest,  as  fair  and  as  beautiful  as  the 
glorious  day  that  was  dying  about  her. 

She  was  a  small  girl,  straight  and  slender,  with  tiny 
well-shaped  hands  and  feet  that  were  the  marvel  of 
those  who  knew  her.  Her  hair  was  brown,  the  dark, 
glossy  brown  of  the  dead  oak  leaves  beneath  her  feet, 
gleaming  with  threads  of  gold  where  the  sunlight  fell 
upon  it,  and  her  eyes  were  the  deep  blue  of  the  wild 
iris.  Large  and  clear  they  were,  and  filled  with  a 
simple  faith  and  gentle  trustfulness  in  all  things,  yet 
having  about  them  a  look  of  shyness,  the  shyness  of  the 
woods  which  is  born  of  life  among  the  wild  things  that 
hide  there.  She  was  tanned  and  brown  from  her  life 
in  the  open,  and  as  she  stood  bareheaded  and  panting 
before  the  little  hunchback,  her  hair  blown  in  feathery 
wisps  across  her  face,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  spark 
ling,  she  seemed  some  fairy  creature  of  the  woods, 
some  sylvan  nymph,  who  would  vanish  in  a  moment 
among  the  great  trees  and  be  gone  forever. 

"  Jean,  Jean,"  she  cried  in  French,  "  how  glad  I  am 
to  see  you.  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  not  meet  me, 
as  you  always  do,  and  the  walk  is  so  long  when  I  am 

160 


ANGELE    OF   ANSE    LE    VERT 

alone.     But  I  have  been  alone  almost  the  whole  way, 
as  it  is.    Why  were  you  so  late,  Jean?  " 

The  little  man  caught  his  pony  and  lifted  her  into  the 
saddle  before  he  answered.  "  I  went  to  Landry  last 
night,"  said  he,  as  he  walked  beside  the  slowly  moving 
animal.  "  I  was  there  until  morning,  and  I  could  not 
sleep,  for  I  missed  the  woods,  and  so  when  I  closed  my 
eyes  in  the  cabin  to-day  my  sleep  was  like  that  of 
the  great  black  bear,  who  hides  himself  away  in  the 
winter." 

The  girl  smiled.  "  I  see,"  said  she.  "  My  poor 
Jean,  no  wonder  you  missed  the  woods,  when  you  love 
them  so.  But  what  is  that  you  have  in  your  hand?  It 
is  the  grain e-a-volee,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Jean,  "  it  is  the  graine-a-volee,  the 
flower  of  Angele  of  Anse  Le  Vert." 

The  girl  clapped  her  hands  and  dropped  the  bridle, 
which  in  no  ways  disconcerted  the  stolid  pony.  "  Oh, 
Jean,"  cried  she,  "  it  is  a  story,  is  it  not?  Do  tell  it 
to  me,  I  want  so  much  to  hear  it." 

"  I  had  not  meant  to  tell  you  a  story,"  replied  the 
little  man.  "  I  took  the  graine-a-volee  so  that  I  could 
make  you  a  necklace  from  its  seeds,  but  if  you  wish  me 
to  tell  you  the  story,  I  will  do  so.  I  will  tell  you  before 
I  begin,  though,  that  it  is  a  very  sad  one." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  sad,"  replied  the  girl,  whose 
heart  was  very  tender,  "  but  tell  me,  Jean,  tell  me  the 
story." 

The  little  man  turned  the  seed  pods  over  in  his  hands, 
caressing  them  with  his  long  fingers.  "  Poor  Angele," 
said  he.  u  You  must  know,  Aline,  that  all  of  what  I 

161 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

am  going  to  tell  you  happened  many  years  ago  at  Anse 
Le  Vert,  and  that  in  those  days  there  were  no  graine- 
a-volee." 

"  No  graine-a-volee! "  exclaimed  the  girl  in  great 
surprise. 

"  No,"  said  Jean,  "  there  were  none  in  those  days. 
The  story  was  told  me  by  a  very  old  man,  and  he  said 
that  at  that  time  he  had  never  seen  one. 

"  You  must  know  that  this  Angele  was  a  very  beauti 
ful  girl  about  your  own  age,  and  that  she  lived  with  her 
father  and  mother  in  a  little  house  at  Anse  Le  Vert. 
You  must  also  know  that  she  was  French — Cajun — like 
ourselves. 

"  Now  this  pretty  Angele  had  many  sweethearts,  and 
there  was  not  a  man  in  all  that  country  who  would  not 
have  given  his  life  to  marry  her,  but  she  would  have 
none  of  them.  She  knew  of  the  kind  of  man  that  she 
wished  to  marry,  but  she  could  not  find  him  at  Anse  Le 
Vert,  so  she  dreamed  of  him  for  a  long  while  and 
prayed  that  some  day  he  might  come  to  her." 

"  And  did  he  come,  Jean,  did  he  come?  "  asked  the 
girl  breathlessly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  little  man,  "  he  came  as  you 
shall  see.  You  must  know  that  near  the  place  where 
this  Angele  lived  there  was  a  great  house  with  many 
arpents  of  land  about  it,  and  that  for  many  years  this 
house  had  been  closed  and  empty. 

"  Now,  one  day  it  was  opened,  and  it  was  told  at 
Anse  Le  Vert  that  a  rich  man  had  bought  it,  and  would 
live  there  with  his  son  and  with  a  girl  who  was  his 
cousin.  In  one  corner  of  the  land  that  lay  about  this 

162 


ANGELE    OF    ANSE    LE    VERT 

big  house  there  was  a  great  coulee,  and  in  this  coulee 
there  were  many  fish,  so  many  that  Angele  would  often 
go  there  to  catch  them,  for  she  was  very  poor  and  some 
times  there  would  be  nothing  to  eat  in  the  little  home 
where  she  lived. 

"  Now  one  day  when  she  was  fishing  in  the  coulee 
she  heard  some  one  behind  her,  and  turning  round  she 
saw  a  young  man.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  knew 
that  he  was  the  one  that  she  had  dreamed  of,  and  this 
young  man  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  so  beautiful 
a  girl  as  Angele." 

"  And  did  the  young  man  love  this  Angele?  "  asked 
the  girl  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Le  Bossu,  "  that  is  just  what  he  did. 
And  now  you  must  know  that  this  young  man  was  the 
son  of  the  rich  one,  who  owned  the  big  house,  and 
that  he  came  from  a  great  city  far  away.  All  through 
the  summer  and  all  through  the  autumn  did  this  young 
man  meet  Angele  at  the  coulee,  and  the  fish  swam 
about  in  peace  and  were  happy,  for  she  caught  them 
no  more. 

"  The  people  at  Anse  Le  Vert  now  told  it  about  that 
the  young  man  would  marry  the  girl  at  the  great  house 
that  winter,  but  to  this  Angele  paid  no  heed,  for  she 
had  found  the  lover  of  her  dreams,  and  she  was  very 
happy.  And  did  not  this  young  man  tell  her  each  day 
that  he  loved  her  ?  What  more  could  she  wish  ? 

"  And  now  the  days  grew  colder,  and  these  two 
would  often  find  the  big  wild  ducks  diving  in  the  coulee, 
which  you  know  is  a  sign  that  the  winter  has  come. 
And  now  there  came  a  day  on  which  it  was  said  at 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Anse  Le  Vert  that  this  young  man  would  marry  the 
girl  at  the  great  house,  but  the  pretty  Angele  shook 
her  head  and  smiled,  for  did  she  not  know? 

"  All  through  the  morning  she  went  about  her  little 
home  singing,  and  when  the  evening  came  she  took  her 
line  and  went  out  to  the  coulee,  hurrying  along  that 
she  might  see  her  lover  the  sooner  and  laugh  with  him 
at  what  was  said  at  Anse  Le  Vert. 

"  For  a  long  time  she  waited,  plucking  the  grass  at 
the  water's  edge  and  singing,  wondering  why  her  lover 
did  not  come,  fearful  lest  some  harm  had  befallen  him. 
And  now  the  sun  went  down,  the  water  of  the  coulee 
grew  black  and  the  pretty  Angele  ceased  her  singing, 
while  her  heart  grew  cold  with  fear,  as  cold  as  the  wind 
that  blew  against  her  from  the  north. 

"  Across  the  fields  she  could  see  the  great  house, 
blazing  with  lights  from  every  window,  and  as  she 
looked  her  heart  grew  colder  still,  for  any  one  could 
have  seen  that  there  was  a  celebration  going  on  at  the 
big  place  before  her. 

"  And  so  this  Angele  started  across  the  fields  toward 
the  great  house,  to  see  if  what  was  said  at  Anse  Le  Vert 
was  so,  and  as  she  went  she  prayed  to  God  to  give  her 
back  her  lover,  and  the  pain  in  her  heart  grew  greater 
and  greater  at  every  step. 

"  Now,  when  she  came  to  her  lover's  house  she  found 
a  great  crowd  of  people  about  it,  and  to  one  of  them  she 
spoke,  asking  why  there  was  a  celebration. 

"  'The  young  master  marries  his  cousin  to-night,' 
answered  the  man  to  whom  she  spoke. 

"  So  the  poor  Angele  went  away  across  the  fields 

164 


ANGELE    OF   ANSE    LE    VERT 

toward  her  home,  and  many  times  did  she  fall  to  the 
ground  as  she  stumbled  across  the  furrows,  but  never  a 
sound  did  she  make,  never  a  tear  did  she  shed,  for  her 
heart  was  broken. 

"  When  she  came  to  the  coulee  she  did  not  pass 
around  it  as  she  had  done  on  her  way  to  the  great  house, 
but  she  stepped  down  into  the  cold  black  water  and 
went  out  toward  the  middle.  And  so  she  went  on  until 
she  came  to  that  part  of  the  coulee  where  the  water  was 
very  deep,  and  there  she  sank  down  and  down  to  the 
bottom,  and  nobody  saw  her  go  but  the  little  stars  way 
up  in  the  heavens  above  her. 

"  So  that  is  the  way  that  Angele  of  Anse  Le 
Vert  died,  and  may  the  good  God  have  mercy  on  her 
soul." 

The  little  man  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
his  hand  upon  the  pony's  mane. 

"  And  the  graine-a-volee,  Jean,"  said  the  girl  softly, 
"  what  of  them?" 

"  Ah,"  replied  Le  Bossu,  "  that  is  the  strange  part 
of  the  story.  The  days  went  on,  the  cold  winter  passed 
away,  the  beautiful  spring  came  again,  and  in  that 
coulee  at  Anse  Le  Vert,  where  there  had  never  before 
been  a  flower,  a  great  green  stem  thrust  itself  out  into 
the  sunlight.  Now  the  people  wondered  much  at  this, 
and  while  they  wondered  this  green  stem  brought  forth 
a  bud  that  grew  and  grew,  and  then  unfurled  itself  into 
a  great  golden  blossom  that  was  the  marvel  of  all  that 
country. 

"  And  now  you  must  know  that  when  the  young  man 
saw  the  flower  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  and  he 

165 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

cried,  '  That  is  the  flower  of  Angele,  the  one  I  loved. 
It  springs  from  her  as  a  memory  of  our  happy  days  and 
haunts  me  with  my  cruelty  to  her/  and  before  the  winter 
came  again  he  was  dead  also,  and  the  coulee  was  cov 
ered  with  graine-a-volee,  as  it  is  covered  with  them 
to-day." 

The  little  man  ceased  speaking,  and  he  and  the  girl 
went  on  in  silence  until  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
clearing. 

"  Thank  you  for  telling  me  the  story,  Jean,"  said 
Aline,  whose  eyes  were  wet  with  tears,  "  it  is  a  pretty 
one,  but  it  is  very  sad." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jean  as  he  stopped  before  the  little 
house,  "  it  is  very  sad,  but  that  is  the  story  of  Angele 
of  Anse  Le  Vert.  Now  I  must  be  going  home,  for  it 
is  late." 

The  old  man  came  out  of  the  house  as  the  hunchback 
was  scrambling  onto  his  pony. 

"  So  you  are  here  at  last,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  I  have 
something  for  you  that  Numa  left  behind  him." 

The  girl  took  the  package  that  he  gave  her  and  tore 
off  its  wrappings.  Jean  leaned  forward  in  his  saddle 
and  looked  eagerly.  Aline  drew  out  the  tarnished 
brooch  and  held  it  in  the  dying  sunlight. 

"  It  is  pretty,  but  I  would  not  care  to  wear  it,"  said 
she  simply.  "  I  do  not  know  why,  but  I  would  not 
care  to  wear  it." 

The  little  man  laughed  and  turned  his  horse. 

"  But  my  graine-a-volee,"  cried  Aline.  "  You  are 
not  going  without  giving  them  to  me?  " 

"  I  thought  that  you  had  forgotten  about  them  after 

166 


ANGELE    OF   ANSE    LE    VERT 

seeing  your  pretty  present,"  said  Le  Bossu  as  he  handed 
them  to  her. 


The  sun  set,  the  stars  came  out,  the  birds  of  the  forest 
were  still,  for  the  beautiful  day  was  gone.  In  the  little 
cabin  the  old  man  sat  nodding  drowsily  before  the  fire, 
where  the  girl  bent  softly  over  him  and  kissed  him 
before  she  went  to  her  tiny  room  to  sleep. 

The  old  man  awakened,  bent  down  to  stir  the  dying 
embers,  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  something  which 
shone  dully  among  the  ashes  of  the  hearth.  Picking  it 
up  he  wiped  it  upon  his  coat  and  gazed  at  it  thought 
fully.  It  was  the  gaudy  brooch  of  Numa's  choosing, 
lying  where  it  had  fallen  from  the  shelf  above  the  open 
fire. 

The  old  man  smiled  triumphantly  as  he  put  it  back 
again.  "  So  much  for  you,  Numa,"  he  muttered. 

Going  over  to  the  little  room  he  peeped  through  the 
half-open  door,  his  wrinkled  face  calm  and  peaceful. 
Inside  the  girl  was  placing  something  upon  the  shelf 
above  her  bed,  the  little  shelf  which  held  her  crucifix. 
Suddenly  she  stood  back,  and  the  watcher  saw  what 
she  had  placed  there.  It  was  the  graine-a-volee. 

The  old  man  smiled  at  the  girl  as  he  drew  back 
from  the  little  room,  for  he,  too,  knew  the  legend. 
"  Poor  Angele  of  Anse  Le  Vert,"  he  heard  her  whisper 
as  he  softly  closed  the  door  behind  him. 


167 


CHAPTER  VI 

TOM  BAYNE  OF  SUNNYSIDE 

DOWN  in  the  fields  at  Belrive  rode  Carey  Gor 
don,  a  look  of  great  pleasure  on  his  face  as 
he  gazed  about  him.  Before  him  the  land 
stretched  away,  a  great  brown  sea  of  fertile,  fragrant 
earth,  a  troubled  sea  of  long,  even  furrows  that  seemed 
to  roll  and  break  in  the  misty  haze  that  hung  above 
them  as  do  the  waves  of  the  ocean. 

Far  away  on  the  smoky  horizon  lay  the  prairies, 
enclosing  the  fields  in  their  setting  of  green,  dotted  with 
little  ponds  that  shone  and  sparkled  in  the  waning  sun 
light  and  mirrored  the  blue  sky  above  them  amid  their 
tiny  waves,  as  though  they  would  bring  the  glories  of 
the  heavens  to  earth  that  man  thus  seeing  them  so  near 
might  rejoice  in  their  beauty  the  more. 

Across  the  brown  furrows  of  the  field  ran  the  levees, 
crossing  and  cutting  and  dividing  the  land  into  squares, 
until  it  looked  like  a  huge  checkerboard,  a  great 
earthen  board  fruitful  and  productive,  upon  which  in 
the  months  to  come  the  game  of  life,  of  existence, 
would  be  played;  played  by  living,  breathing  men,  to 
whom  the  outcome  of  the  game  would  be  all  or  nothing. 

Carey  sat  upon  his  horse  and  looked  a'bout  him  with 

168 


TOM    BAYNE    OF    SUNNYSIDE 

a  satisfied  smile,  and  well  might  he  do  so,  for  his  fall 
plowing,  that  was  to  make  the  land  more  rich,  more 
yielding  and  more  ready  to  receive  its  offering  of 
golden  yellow  seed,  was  done,  and  the  torn,  broken 
earth  would  now  be  left  to  rest  and  heal  its  many 
wounds. 

"  Well,  Nick,"  said  he  exultingly  to  his  overseer  who 
rode  behind  him,  "  we  are  all  finished  for  the  present, 
aren't  we?  " 

Nicholas  Wilson  nodded  his  head.  "  It  sure  looks 
like  it,"  he  replied,  but  in  his  answer  there  was  none  of 
the  satisfaction  that  had  sounded  so  clearly  in  the  ques 
tion  of  his  companion. 

Carey  turned  upon  him  and  gazed  at  him  curiously, 
an  amused  look  upon  his  face. 

"  Do  you  know,  Nick,"  said  he,  "  I  believe  that  you 
are  sorry  we  have  finished  plowing?  " 

Wilson  looked  at  him  quizzically  for  a  moment. 
"  I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Gordon,"  he  answered,  "  I  feel 
about  this  plowin'  as  Bug  Smith  did  when  he  licked 
Bill  Thompson." 

"  And  how  was  that?  "  asked  Carey,  who  knew  that 
a  story  was  forthcoming  and  was  anxious  to  hear  it,  as 
Wilson's  stories  were  generally  good  ones. 

"  Well,"  said  Wilson,  "  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go  back 
to  the  stables.  You  see,  this  here  Bug  Smith  lived  up 
in  Butler  County,  Nebrasky,  and  if  he  ever  done  any 
thing  but  live,  nobody  ever  caught  'him  at  it,  for  he 
didn't  have  no  very  great  reputation  for  bein'  indus 
trious.  How  he  come  to  be  called  Bug  I  don't  know. 
Some  people  said  that  they  called  him  that  'cause  about 

169 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  only  thing  bugs  was  good  for  was  for  killin'  pur 
poses,  and  some  people  said  that  he  was  born  durin' 
harvest  and  his  paw  didn't  have  time  to  call  him  naw- 
thing  else,  but  then  Bug  never  would  admit  that  What 
they  said  was  so,  and  even  if  he  had  no  one  would  'a' 
believed  him,  'cause  he  was  the  biggest  liar  in  the  State 
of  Nebrasky. 

"  About  all  that  this  here  Bug  Smith  did  was  to 
worry  about  Bill  Thompson,  and  if  you  can  call  worry- 
in'  workin',  why,  Bug  used  to  make  watches  at  night. 
Bill  Thompson  was  a  scrapper,  and  he  was  the  bully 
of  Butler  County,  and  Bill  said  that  if  there  was  any 
body  that  thought  he  could  lick  him  he  would  sure  be 
glad  to  show  him  that  he  was  wrong. 

u  So  this  is  what  was  botherin'  Bug  Smith,  'cause 
Bug  was  a  pretty  good  man  himself  and  he  could  lick 
pretty  near  anybody  he  wanted  to  in  Butler  County, 
but  he  didn't  feel  so  sure  about  lickin'  Bill,  and  he 
couldn't  get  up  nerve  enough  to  fight  him. 

"  Well,  one  day  he  says  somethin'  about  Bill,  and 
Bill  comes  round  to  his  shack  to  see  him  about  it.  Bill 
talks  and  cusses  round  for  a  while  till  Bug  sees  that 
he's  got  to  fight,  so  he  gets  up  his  nerve  and  swarms 
into  him,  and  for  a  while  there  hain't  nawthing  much 
around  the  shack  but  dust  and  profanity. 

"  After  a  little  while  things  gets  quieter  and  Bug's 
surprised  to  see  he's  got  Bill  licked.  Both  of  'em's 
beat  up  pretty  bad  and  they  hain't  got  enough  clothes 
between  'em  to  make  a  necktie  out  of,  but  Bill's  licked, 
and  he  knows  it. 

"  *  Well,'  says  he,  speakin'  kind  of  funny,  'cause  he's 

170 


TOM    BAYNE    OF    SUNNYSIDE 

lost  considerable  teeth.     '  Well,'  says  he,  '  I  guess  you're 
pretty  proud  now,  hain't  you  ?  ' 

"  Bug  don't  say  nawthing,  but  he  just  stands  there 
lookin'  kind  of  sad  and  sour,  and  he  looks  so  mighty 
disappointed  that  he  makes  Bill  mad  again. 

"  'Good  God !  '  says  Bill,  '  hain't  you  satisfied?  You 
don't  want  to  kill  me,  do  you  ?  ' 

"  *  No,'  says  Bug  mighty  sorrowful,  *  it  hain't  that, 
but  I'm  damned  sorry  I  licked  you.' 

"  '  What,'  says  Bill,  *  you're  sorry  you  licked  me? ' 

"  *  Yes,'  says  Bug,  '  I  hain't  got  nawthing  to  worry 
about  now,'  and  that's  the  way  I  feel  about  that  plowin', 
Mr.  Gordon." 

"  Well,"  said  Carey,  after  he  had  laughed  heartily 
at  the  overseer's  story,  u  I'm  afraid  that  I'm  not  like 
you.  I'm  glad  to  have  a  rest.  If  you  want  something 
to  worry  about,  Nick,  you  can  start  worrying  about 
planting  any  time  that  you  get  ready." 

"  No,"  replied  Wilson,  as  he  leaned  from  his  saddle 
to  unlatch  the  gate  of  the  stable  lot,  "  I  hain't  investin' 
none  of  my  time  lookin'  for  trouble.  People  who  does 
that  generally  draw  about  two  hundred  per  cent,  on 
their  investment." 

"  Right,"  answered  Carey,  "  I  mean  to  make  the 
time  from  now  to  planting  one  long  holiday,  and  I'm 
going  to  start  in  before  sunrise  to-morrow  morning  with 
a  snipe  hunt  on  the  marsh.  Tom  Bayne  is  going  with 
me,  so  I  guess  if  I  hurry  home  I  will  about  catch  him 
as  he  comes  in" ;  and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse  he  loped 
away  to  the  big  house,  where  he  found  Bayne  just 
dismounting  at  the  front  porch. 

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ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Tom  Bayne  was  a  young  man,  tall  and  nice  looking, 
with  the  most  sunny  disposition  imaginable. 

It  made  no  difference  what  ill-luck  or  trouble  befell 
him,  he  was  always  cheerful,  and  his  power  of  impart 
ing  this  cheerfulness  to  others  made  him  beloved  and 
admired  by  all  who  knew  him.  He  had  lived  all  his  life 
at  Sunnyside,  his  father's  plantation,  and  this  planta 
tion  being  not  very  far  from  Belrive,  he  had  known  the 
Gordons  from  childhood. 

His  first  recollections  went  back  to  the  days  when  he 
had  played  with  Carey  Gordon,  and  he  still  felt  a  touch 
of  the  reverence  and  awe  that  he  had  felt  in  those  days 
for  the  older  boy.  And  then  there  was  Marjorie  also. 
With  her  he  had  been  more  at  his  ease,  being  the  elder, 
and  the  days  that  they  had  spent  together,  playing  from 
dawn  to  dark  with  the  tireless  energy  of  childhood, 
were  the  happiest  memories  of  his  life. 

In  those  times  he  had  called  her  his  sweetheart  and 
had  boasted  that  he  would  marry  her  when  he  grew 
to  be  a  man,  and  would  live  with  her  forever  on  an 
enchanted  isle,  where  the  only  food  would  be  cakes  and 
candy. 

Now  that  he  was  a  man,  Tom  Bayne  thought  of 
those  days,  and  he  envied  the  boy  that  he  had  been, 
for  he  still  wished  to  marry  Marjorie  Gordon,  and  he 
could  not  boast  of  it  to  her,  nor  could  he  even  call  her 
sweetheart,  for  he  was  shy  and  very  bashful  in  the  time 
of  his  maturity.  For  months  he  had  sworn  that  he 
would  speak  to  her,  and  for  months  had  his  courage 
forsaken  him.  He  could  talk  to  her  for  hours,  for  long, 
happy  hours,  of  the  old  days,  but  once  let  him  try  to 

172 


TOM    BAYNE    OF    SUNNYSIDE 

tell  what  was  in  his  heart,  and  he  was  dumb  and  silent 
and  hated  himself  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Swinging  down  from  his  horse  upon  the  broad,  front 
steps,  he  swore  that  he  would  go  to  her  at  once  and 
tell  her  everything.  But  Carey,  suddenly  riding  up, 
rudely  interrupted  his  reverie  by  greeting  him  boister 
ously  and  hurrying  him  off  to  his  room,  where  he 
declared  they  must  instantly  go  and  dress,  if  they  would 
be  in  time  for  dinner. 

Tom  went  upstairs  with  him  reluctantly,  hoping  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Marjorie,  hating  to  waste  what  he 
considered  precious  time  in  talking  to  Carey,  with  whom 
he  would  be  all  of  the  next  day.  When  he  finally 
entered  the  dining  room  his  greeting  to  those  within 
it  was  somewhat  incoherent,  for  Marjorie,  a  vision  of 
beauty  in  a  dress  of  darkest  crimson,  had  smiled  at  him 
so  sweetly  when  he  had  shaken  hands  with  her  that  she 
had  left  him  all  but  speechless. 

Once  seated  at  the  table,  however,  he  regained  his 
composure,  and  was  soon  answering  the  many  questions 
that  were  asked  him  about  himself  and  the  family  at 
Sunnyside.  He  had  been  placed  next  to  Marjorie,  and 
he  felt  that  could  he  but  go  on  forever  sitting  next  to 
the  glorious  creature  beside  him  he  would  ask  for  noth 
ing  more  and  would  die  content. 

The  talk  at  the  table  now  turned  to  the  hunt  on  the 
morrow,  and  Tom  was  busy  telling  of  dogs  and  guns 
and  where  to  shoot,  when  suddenly  it  drifted  into  a 
discussion  of  Miss  Lawrence's  many  charms,  upon 
which  subject  he  became  strangely  silent.  And  it  was 
evident  that  Marjorie,  noticing  his  reticence,  approved 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

of  it  heartily,  but  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  teasing  him  a  little,  which  was  her  way  of  showing 
her  appreciation. 

"  Julia  will  be  lucky  in  having  two  such  nice  beaux 
as  Carey  and  yourself,"  said  she  demurely,  "  and  I  am 
especially  obliged  to  you,  Tom,  for  paying  so  much 
interest  to  he'r  arrival." 

"  Which  interest,"  observed  Aunt  Betty  drily,  "  will 
cause  no  withdrawal  of  the  principal  should  you  sud 
denly  cease  paying  it." 

To  this  Marjorie  answered  .nothing,  but  blushed 
so  furiously  and  looked  so  confused  and  pretty  that 
Tom  could  do  nothing  but  gaze  at  her  in  wide- 
eyed  admiration,  utterly  regardless  of  the  food  before 
him. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  continued  Aunt  Betty,  who  had  been 
watching  him  closely,  "  that  Tom  is  in  love,  as  he  has 
hardly  eaten  anything.  I  know  that  it  is  not  the  fault 
of  the  dinner,  Tom,  for  I  ordered  it  myself." 

To  this  Tom  made  a  stammering  reply  about  a  late 
lunch,  and  became  so  exceedingly  confused  and  nervous 
that  Aunt  Betty  took  compassion  on  him  and  told  him 
that  it  was  eminently  proper  that  he  should  be  in  love, 
and  a  great  many  other  things  which  she  thought  would 
put  him  at  his  ease,  with  the  result  that  in  a  few 
moments  he  was  in  a  state  closely  bordering  upon 
insanity. 

It  was  a  relief  to  him  when,  the  dinner  over,  he  and 
Carey  sat  at  the  table  smoking  their  cigarettes;  yet, 
when  a  little  later  Carey  arose,  Tom  followed  him  with 
alacrity,  for  in  the  parlor  was  his  divinity,  and  he 


TOM    BAYNE    OF   SUNNYSIDE 

% 

already  felt  that  he  had  been  away  from  her  for  a  very 
long  time. 

The  parlor  at  Belrive,  a  great  high-ceiled  room, 
lighted  by  huge  French  windows,  had  been  changed  but 
little  since  its  palmy  days  before  the  war.  Hanging 
upon  its  walls  were  the  same  family  portraits  that  had 
been  the  admiration  of  those  who  had  filled  the  great 
house  in  the  years  gone  by.  The  same  chairs  stood  upon 
its  floors  that  had  held  the  fairy  form  of  many  a  belle  of 
bygone  days,  and  the  old  sofa  that  hid  so  snugly  in  the 
corner  by  the  open  fire  could  have  told  many  a  tale  of 
ancient  love  and  passion.  It  was  a  room  of  faded 
memories  and  pleasant  thoughts,  a  room  where  love 
and  romance  filled  one's  brain  and  made  one  dream  of 
olden  days,  of  beaux  and  belles  and  of  wooing. 

No  sooner  did  Carey  enter  the  door  than  he  was 
captured  at  once  by  Aunt  Betty,  who  led  him  away  to  a 
table  where  a  pack  of  cards  and  a  cribbage  board  were 
set  forth. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  very  rude,"  said  the  little 
old  lady  as  she  began  shuffling  the  cards,  "  but  I  really 
do  not  think  that  I  could  sleep  at  night  if  I  missed  my 
game  of  cribbage."  And  from  that  time  on  she  was 
silent,  save  for  occasional  remarks  which  she  made 
about  the  game.  At  times  these  remarks  were  unduly 
violent. 

Near  the  open  fire  sat  Mrs.  Gordon,  a  bit  of  fancy 
work  in  her  lap,  and  seated  upon  a  little  stool  at  her 
feet  was  Marjorie,  the  firelight  playing  about  the  ruddy 
glory  of  her  hair,  until  it  shone  like  molten  gold. 

Tom  Bayne  drew  up  a  chair  to  the  fireside  and  seated 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

himself.  "  f  am  going  to  ask  you  to  let  me  stay  here," 
said  he,  "  for  Carey  has  driven  me  away,  and  if  you 
turn  me  out  I  am  friendless." 

Mrs.  Gordon  smiled  and  looked  at  him  affectionately. 
She  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  she  thought  that  in 
all  the  world  there  was  no  nicer  fellow  than  Tom 
Bayne. 

"  You  are  very  welcome,  Tom,"  said  she,  "  but  I  am 
afraid  that  Marjorie  will  have  to  entertain  you,  for  I 
am  going  to  my  room  to  write  some  letters.  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  excuse  me." 

Would  he  excuse  her?  Would  he  be  sorry  at  being 
left  alone  with  Marjorie?  Tom  Bayne  arose  instantly, 
and  stood  making  the  most  desperate  efforts  to  appear 
disappointed,  as  Mrs.  Gordon  gathered  up  her  sewing, 
and  with  a  good-night  kiss  from  her  daughter  departed. 

How  Tom  envied  her  that  kiss.  What  would  he  not 
have  given  for  it,  and  yet  Mrs.  Gordon  received  it  with 
the  utmost  composure  imaginable.  He  decided  that 
she  lacked  appreciation  as  he  resumed  his  seat  again. 

Meanwhile  Marjorie  had  taken  possession  of  her 
mother's  armchair  and  was  resting  her  feet  upon  the 
little  stool  from  which  she  had  just  arisen. 

"  Do  you  know,  Tom,"  said  she,  "  it's  awful  to  be 
so  small.  Why,  if  a  chair  is  the  least  bit  high  my  feet 
won't  touch  the  floor." 

Tom  objected  to  what  she  said.  He  did  not  think 
that  it  was  awful  to  be  so  small.  He  liked  small  people. 
He  wished  that  he  was  small  himself. 

Marjorie  laughed  at  him.  "  I  do  believe,  Tom," 
said  she,  "  that  you  are  trying  to  pay  me  a  compliment 

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TOM    BAYNE    OF    SUNNYSIDE 

— why,  you  are  getting  to  be  quite  a  beau.  Who  is  the 
lucky  girl?  Won't  you  tell  me?" 

Tom  instantly  became  very  savage.  He  declared 
that  there  wasn't  any  lucky  girl,  that  he  was  not  paying 
any  compliments,  but  was  simply  telling  her  the  truth. 

Marjorie  laughed  at  him  the  more  and  teased  him 
unmercifully.  She  asked  him  if  it  were  not  Kate,  or 
Jane,  or  Ethel,  or  one  of  a  dozen  other  girls  that  they 
knew,  while  Tom  denounced  each  one  fiercely,  declar 
ing  that  he  would  not  marry  her  if  she  were  the  only 
woman  on  earth. 

"  And  just  think,  Tom,"  she  continued,  "  Julia  Law 
rence  will  be  here  soon,  and  you  can  fall  in  love  with 
her.  You  don't  know  what  a  beauty  she  is,  and  you 
ought  to  hear  her  play  and  sing.  I  am  sure  that 
you  will  lose  your  heart  the  first  day  that  you  meet 
her." 

Tom  swore  that  he  would  under  no  consideration 
fall  in  love  with  Miss  Lawrence.  He  felt  sure  that  he 
could  never  love  her. 

"  Then,  Tom,"  said  Marjorie,  "  I  give  you  up.  I 
can't  seem  to  find  a  girl  that  suits  your  lordship.  What 
sort  of  a  girl  do  you  want  anyway?  " 

Tom  looked  at  her  as  she  lay  back  in  the  big  chair, 
with  the  shadows  of  the  firelight  dancing  across  her 
pretty  face,  and  his  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  Summon 
ing  all  his  courage  he  leaned  over  her  and  spoke,  his 
voice  low  and  earnest. 

"  The  sort  of  a  girl  that  I  want,"  said  he,  "  is  an 
angel,  and  her  name  is " 

"  Tom,"  called  Carey  from  the  card  table,  "  the 

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ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

game  is  over,  and  let's  go  to  bed.  We  are  going  to 
get  up  very  early  in  the  morning,  you  know." 

Tom  arose  without  a  word,  and  as  a  vent  for  his  ill- 
humor  fiercely  kicked  one  of  the  logs  in  the  fire. 

"  Good  night,  Margey,"  said  he  sullenly  as  he  turned 
to  go. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  the  girl's  name,"  whis 
pered  Marjorie,  an  amused  smile  upon  her  face. 

Tom  turned  to  her  again,  but  the  eyes  of  Aunt  Betty 
and  of  Carey  were  upon  him,  and  his  courage  of  a 
moment  before  had  vanished. 

"  You  had  better  ask  Carey  what  her  name  is,"  said 
he  angrily.  "  It  was  his  fault  that  I  didn't  tell  you." 

For  a  long  time  after  he  had  gone  Marjorie  sat 
before  the  fire,  thinking  of  What  he  had  said.  "  Poor 
Tom,"  said  she  to  herself,  as  she  finally  rose  from  the 
big  chair.  "  How  stupid  he  is.  Why,  I  knew  who  the 
girl  was  before  he  did,  and  he  can't  even  see  that  she 
cares  for  him." 


CHAPTER    VII 

A  FAIRY  AND  A  GOBLIN 

THE  first  faint  streaks  of  dawn  were  beginning 
to  tinge  the  eastern  sky  when  Carey  and  his 
companion  drove  up  to  the  spot  which  they 
had  chosen  for  their  hunting.  Through  the  heavy  fog 
of  the  morning  they  could  see  the  marsh,  a  great  muddy 
flat,  covered  with  grass  and  water,  its  long  even  stretch 
unbroken,  save  by  a  dark  mass  of  trees  that  pushed  their 
way  into  its  level  bareness. 

On  one  side  the  Grand  Woods  closed  it  in,  rising 
against  the  horizon  like  some  great  wall.  On  the  other 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  was  the  brown  marsh  grass, 
stiff  and  straight  and  silent,  stretching,  it  seemed,  to 
the  end  of  the  world. 

"  Now,  Tom,"  said  Carey,  "  you  take  the  dogs  and 
hunt  on  this  side  of  that  point  of  trees.  I  know  that 
you  will  find  snipe  there.  I'm  going  to  cut  straight 
across  the  point  and  shoot,  for  I've  never  been  there 
and  I  want  to  see  how  it  is.  We'll  meet  here  at  three 
o'clock" ;  and  with  a  little  shiver  at  the  coldness  of  the 
morning  he  started  off  to  the  point  of  woods. 

It  was  very  hard  walking,  for  the  marsh  was  full 
of  water,  and  as  he  went  along  he  frequently  sank  above 
his  knees.  Finally  he  reached  the  point  of  woods  and 

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ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  higher  land,  and  after  stopping  for  a  while  to  rest 
himself,  he  crossed  the  narrow  strip  before  him  and 
came  out  upon  the  open  marsh  again.  It  was  very  like 
the  one  he  had  just  left,  save  that  between  it  and  the 
point  of  trees  there  ran  a  stream,  a  small  brown  stream 
flowing  between  low  banks  of  soft  black  mud. 

Carey  stood  upon  the  bank  of  this  stream  and 
frowned  in  a  very  angry  way.  On  the  other  side  of  it 
lay  the  marsh  with  its  many  hidden  snipe,  distant  from 
him  but  a  few  yards,  yet  impossible  for  him  to  reach, 
for  the  stream  was  too  wide  for  him  to  be  able  to  jump 
across  it,  and  the  cold  wind  that  blew  in  from  the  sea 
marsh  changed  his  determination  to  wade  to  the  other 
side. 

After  vainly  trying  to  think  of  some  way  in  which 
to  overcome  this  obstacle,  he  went  back  to  the  strip  of 
trees  and  started  in  toward  the  Grand  Woods  in  a  very 
bad  humor.  "  I  will  see  if  this  stream  doesn't  grow 
smaller  in  the  woods,  or  if  I  can't  find  a  fallen  tree  to 
cross  by,"  he  muttered  angrily  as  he  went  along. 

And  so  he  went  into  the  silent  depths  of  the  Grand 
Woods,  and  the  farther  he  went  the  wider  grew  the 
stream,  until  he  finally  stood  upon  the  banks  of  a  little 
river,  fringed  with  the  long  green  leaves  of  the  wild 
iris  and  almost  hidden  from  sight  by  the  thickly  grow 
ing  trees  that  clustered  about  it.  Its  water  now  was 
blue  and  clear,  and  in  its  placid  depths  Carey  could  see 
pictured  the  vast  panorama  of  the  forest,  with  its  sway 
ing  limbs  and  softly  rustling  leaves. 

Along  the  sides  of  the  little  river  grew  the  blackberry 
bushes,  with  their  thorny  mass  of  branches,  now  dry 

180 


A    FAIRY    AND    A    GOBLIN 

and  brown,  waiting  for  the  gentle  touch  of  spring  to 
clothe  them  with  their  white  and  green.  Along  the 
little  river  hung  the  great  muscadine  vines,  strong  and 
brown  and  twining  like  great  serpents,  swaying  softly 
in  the  wind,  waiting  like  all  else  in  the  woods  for  the 
spring,  the  generous  spring,  that  would  give  them  their 
harvest  of  dark,  glossy  fruit. 

Carey  gazed  about  him  in  admiration,  the  quiet 
beauty  of  this  tiny  river  driving  away  his  bad  humor. 
"  This  is  like  the  places  that  I  used  to  read  about  in 
the  fairy  tales,"  said  he  as  he  flung  himself  upon  the 
ground.  "  All  that  is  needed  to  make  it  complete  is  a 
fairy  or  a  goblin."  And  as  he  spoke  there  came  to  him 
the  sound  of  a  woman  singing,  the  clear  notes  rising 
sweet  and  true  amid  the  silence  of  the  forest. 

Carey  sprang  to  his  feet  and  gazed  curiously  down 
the  little  river,  but  just  below  him  it  made  a  sudden 
bend,  and  he  could  see  nothing.  "  Now  I  wonder  who 
that  is?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  Perhaps  it  is  my  fairy," 
and  as  he  stood  there  looking  about  him  a  pirogue  shot 
suddenly  around  the  bend  and  came  swiftly  toward  him. 

It  was  an  old  pirogue,  battered  and  worn,  hewn  from 
a  single  log,  and  in  its  stern,  paddling  with  long,  even 
strokes  was  a  girl,  her  head  thrown  back  as  she  sang  her 
simple  song  that  fell  so  sweetly  on  the  woodland  air. 

On  she  came,  her  slender  body  swaying  with  the 
motion  of  the  paddle,  her  brown  hair  blowing  about  her 
face  in  a  cloud,  her  blue  eyes  gleaming  with  the  joy  of 
the  forest,  the  sharp  prow  of  her  pirogue  throwing 
back  the  water  on  either  side  in  little  waves  that  danced 
and  sparkled  in  the  sunlight.  The  blue  sky  above  her, 

181 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  warm  sunlight  that  caressed  her  rosy  cheek,  the 
fresh  salt  wind  that  tossed  her  silken  hair,  the  little 
waves  of  the  river  that  lapped  softly  against  the  sides 
of  the  pirogue,  even  the  great  trees  themselves  seemed 
brighter  and  stronger  and  more  beautiful  as  she  passed 
along. 

.  Carey  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment,  until  the  girl, 
catching  sight  of  him,  stopped  her  pirogue  and  sat  for 
a  moment  with  her  paddle  poised  above  the  water,  as 
though  undecided  whether  to  wait  for  him  to  speak  or 
to  keep  upon  her  way.  For  a  moment  the  two  were 
motionless,  gazing  at  each  other  in  silence,  and  then 
the  girl  thrust  her  paddle  into  the  water  again. 

"  Wait,  wait,"  called  Carey  in  French  as  the  pirogue 
glided  away.  "  I  wish  to  cross." 

The  girl  turned  her  frail  craft  and  came  paddling 
back  to  him  again. 

"Did  you  not  say  that  you  wished  to  cross,  M'sieu?  " 
she  asked  in  English  as  she  grounded  her  pirogue  gently 
at  his  feet. 

Her  eyes  met  his  squarely,  trustingly,  but  in  them  he 
saw  a  touch  of  shyness  that  made  them  the  more  per 
fect.  Carey  still  gazed  at  her  in  speechless  amaze 
ment,  and  found  her,  now  that  he  saw  her  closely, 
more  beautiful  than  she  had  appeared  when  upon  the 
water. 

"  Did  you  not  say  that  you  wished  to  cross,  M'sieuf** 
asked  the  girl  again. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Carey,  coming  back  to  himself.  "  I 
do  want  to  cross.  Excuse  my  staring  at  you.  I  thought 
at  first  that  you  were  a  fairy." 

182 


A    FAIRY    AND    A    GOBLIN 

The  girl  shook  her  pretty  head.  "  No,  no,"  said  she, 
"  I  am  no  fairy.  I  am  only  Aline,  M'sieu." 

"Aline,"  smiled  Carey,  "Aline?  That  is  a  very 
pretty  name  for  a  very  pretty  girl." 

The  girl  laughed  at  this,  her  face  lighting  up  with 
pleasure.  "  So  you  think  that  I  am  pretty,  M'sieu?" 
she  cried.  "You  really  think  so?  Then  I  am  glad. 
Jean  tells  me  that  I  am  pretty,  but  my  poor  Jean  would 
say  so  if  I  were  very  ugly,  for  he  loves  me  very  much, 
M'sieu." 

Carey  looked  at  her  quickly.  "  What  vanity,"  he 
thought,  but  the  girl  faced  him  squarely  with  naught 
but  a  childish  joy  in  her  blue  eyes,  and  he  smiled  at 
her  innocence.  "  And  so  you  like  people  to  think  that 
you  are  pretty?  "  he  asked. 

The  girl  nodded  and  stretched  her  arm  before  her. 
"  Oh,  yes,  M'sieu"  said  she,  "  I  do  care  for  people  to 
think  that  I  am  pretty.  See  the  bayou  there  before  you 
in  the  woods,  is  it  not  pretty?  Do  you  not  love  to  see 
it?  You  are  happy  when  you  look  at  it,  but  if  it  were 
ugly,  M'sieu?  Then  you  would  turn  away  and  hate 
it.  And  if  I  were  ugly,  M'sieu,  you  would  turn  away 
and  hate  me,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  hated.  God  has 
made  us  love  that  which  is  pretty,  and  if  you  find  me  so, 
I  am  happy." 

And  now  that  the  girl  had  finished  speaking,  she 
blushed  and  hung  her  pretty  head  at  having  said  so 
much,  and  Carey  as  he  looked  at  her  thought  her  more 
beautiful  than  ever.  "  Was  there  ever  any  one  so 
nai've?  "  said  he  to  himself. 

The  girl  now  raised  her  head  and  pointed  to  the 

183 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

pirogue.  "  I  will  take  you  across  if  you  wish,  M'sieu" 
she  said  shyly. 

"  I  will  go  in  a  moment,"  answered  Carey,  "  but 
first,  if  you  do  not  mind,  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions." 

"  M'sieu  has  but  to  ask,"  said  the  girl. 

"Well,  then,  what  is  the  name  of  this  bayou?" 
asked  Carey,  glad  of  an  excuse  for  conversation. 
"  And  can  you  tell  me  where  it  goes  to?  " 

"  This  is  Bayou  des  Arbres,"  answered  the  girl, 
"  and  it  runs  into  the  big  lake  in  the  Grand  Woods. 
You  will  find  that  it  is  very  narrow  in  the  marsh." 

"  So  I  have  found  it,  and  yet  it  is  a  little  too  wide 
to  cross,"  said  Carey  laughing.  "  And  now  will  you 
tell  me  where  you  learned  to  speak  such  pretty 
English?" 

The  girl's  face  clouded  for  a  moment.  "  My  father 
taught  me,  M'sieu,"  she  answered  slowly,  and  I  have 
never  forgotten." 

"  And  your  father's  name  is — "  began  Carey. 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  M'sieu,"  cried  the  girl  quickly,  her 
blue  eyes  full  of  sorrow.  "  My  father  died  a  long 
time  ago,  and  I  do  not  know.  It  is  tangled  and  twisted, 
like  the  love  vines  are  in  the  summer,  and  it  makes  me 
sad  when  I  think  of  it.  Some  day  it  will  all  come 
straight,  my  uncle  says  so,  but  now  I  do  not  know. 
My  name  is  Aline,  M'sieu,  that  is  all.  Some  call  me 
Aline  of  the  Grand  Woods,  but  again  that  is  all." 

The  girl  ceased  speaking  and  drew  her  little  hand 
across  her  face,  for  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Carey  turned  to  her  and  spoke  softly.  "  I  am  sorry, 

184 


A    FAIRY    AND    A    GOBLIN 

Aline/'  said  he.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  make  you  sad. 
Will  you  forgive  me?  " 

The  girl  drew  her  hand  away  and  showed  him  a 
smiling,  tear-stained  face.  "It  is  all  over  now,  M'sieu'' 
she  answered  brightly.  "  I  have  nothing  to  forgive. 
It  is  I  who  should  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  We  who  live 
in  the  woods  are  not  like  other  people.  We  are  strange 
creatures,  M'sieu,  and  therefore  you  must  not  mind  our 
ways." 

"And  do  you  live  in  these  great  woods?"  asked 
Carey. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu"  replied  the  girl,  "  I  live  here  with 
my  Uncle  Telesse." 

"  Telesse,"  cried  Carey.  "  Ah,  I  see  it  now.  He  is 
the  old  man  whom  I  have  sent  word  to  come  to  my 
plantation  to  live  and  you  are  the  girl,  the  beautiful 
girl,  that  the  hunter  told  me  about." 

"  And,"  said  the  girl,  "  you  are  M'sieu  Gordon, 
M'sieu  Carey  Gordon,  who  used  to  ride  a  pony  many 
years  ago  when  you  were  a  little  boy." 

For  a  moment  the  two  were  silent,  thinking  of  their 
strange  meeting,  and  then  Carey  spoke  to  the  girl 
again. 

"And  is  your  uncle  coming  to  Belrive?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu,"  replied  the  girl.  "  He  will  ride  to 
see  you  to-morrow  and  will  ask  you  to  send  a  cart  so 
that  we  may  move  in  time  for  the  planting.  He  does 
not  wish  to  leave  the  woods,  but  he  will  go  that  I  may 
be  near  the  school  at  Landry.  And  I  will  try  so  hard  to 
learn,  M'sieu,  I  wish  so  much  to  learn.  It  will  make 
me  so  happy." 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  girl  ceased  speaking,  her  pretty  face  bright  with 
joy. 

"  And  have  you  ever  been  taught  at  school?  "  asked 
Carey. 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  No,  M'sieu,"  answered 
she,  "  but  long  ago  my  father  used  to  teach  me,  and  I 
have  tried  to  teach  myself.  Wait  a  moment  and  I  will 
show  you." 

Going  to  her  pirogue  she  brought  forth  a  battered 
book  from  beneath  the  seat  and  handed  it  to  him.  It 
was  an  old  primer,  its  cover  worn  almost  away,  its 
pages  dog-eared  and  torn  and  black  from  much  turning. 

Carey  laid  back  the  worn  covers  as  tenderly  as 
though  it  were  a  living  thing.  "  And  you  have  kept 
this  little  book  all  these  years,  and  have  tried  to  teach 
yourself  from  it?"  he  asked  softly. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu,"  replied  the  girl,  "  and  I  have  had  so 
much  pleasure  in  trying  to  learn.  I  take  my  book 
everywhere,  for  I  love  it  very  dearly." 

Carey  looked  out  upon  the  forest  before  him  and 
frowned  as  he  thought  of  the  life  of  this  girl.  "  Tell 
your  uncle,"  said  he,  "  that  I  will  move  him  to  Belrive 
whenever  he  wishes  to  go.  Tell  him  to  come  to  me 
to-morrow,  and  when  you  come  to  Belrive,  if  you  cannot 
buy  the  books  for  the  school  let  me  know,  and  I  will 
get  them  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,  M'sieu"  cried  the  girl,  "  you  are  very 
kind,  but  I  fear  that  the  books  will  cost  a  great  deal 
of  money." 

Carey  laughed.  "  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  I 
will  get  them  for  you  anyhow,  and  in  payment  for  them 

186 


A    FAIRY    AND    A    GOBLIN 

I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  cross  me  over,  and  to  tell 
me  if,  when  I  am  on  the  other  side,  I  can  get  back 
again." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  girl  as  she  seated  herself  in  the 
pirogue,  and  took  up  the  paddle.  "  You  will  find  that 
the  bayou  is  very  narrow  deep  in  the  marsh,  so  narrow 
that  you  will  be  able  to  jump  across  it." 

The  journey  across  the  little  bayou  was  accomplished 
in  a  moment,  and  when  the  girl  had  grounded  her 
pirogue  in  the  soft  mud  on  the  other  side  Carey  thanked 
her  and  jumped  out  among  the  iris  plants,  crushing  their 
tall,  straight  leaves  into  the  muddy  water.  The  girl 
sat  in  the  pirogue  and  watched  him  closely  as  he  swung 
his  gun  upon  his  shoulder  and  started  away. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  came  back  to  the  bayou's 
edge. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  wondering 
how  you  knew  that  I  used  to  ride  a  pony.  He  has 
been  dead  for  years,  poor  fellow.  I  had  forgotten  him 
myself." 

"  I  have  met  you  once  before,  M'sieu,"  answered  the 
girl,  "  and  you  were  on  the  pony.  I  have  not  for 
gotten  it." 

"Where  did  you  meet  me?  When  was  it?"  asked 
Carey. 

The  girl  shook  her  head  and  smiled.  "  It  was  a  long 
time  ago,  M'sieu,"  said  she,  "  and  you  will  not  remem 
ber.  You  have  forgotten  it  as  you  did  the  pony.  Be 
sides,  I  see  Jean  coming  for  me  and  I  must  go  to  him. 
He  has  been  fishing  and  has  waited  a  long  time  for 
me  to  take  him  to  the  lake.  Adieu,  M'sieu,  and  thank 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

you  for  the  promise  of  the  books.  I  know  that  I  shall 
be  happy  at  Belrive  with  such  a  kind  master." 

Carey  watched  her  as  the  pirogue  glided  away,  and 
as  he  gazed  after  it  the  freshness  and  the  beauty  of 
the  forest  seemed  to  go  with  her.  Suddenly  he  caught 
sight  of  Le  Bossu  at  the  bend  of  the  bayou,  and  an 
amused  smile  overspread  his  features. 

"  The  goblin, "  said  he  as  he  walked  away.  "  I  had 
better  hurry  and  leave  this  enchanted  forest  before  I 
am  called  upon  to  fight  a  dragon." 


188 


CHAPTER   VIII 

AUNT  BETTY  DRIVES   OUT 

THE  sun  shone  warm  and  bright  about  Belrive, 
and  the  air  was  touched  with  the  first  faint 
traces  of  the  approaching  spring.  In  the  gar 
den  the  flowers  and  plants  put  forth  their  tender  shoots 
of  green,  which,  bursting  from  the  confines  of  dead  and 
withered  wood,  raised  their  tiny  heads  thankfully  to  the 
blue  sky  above,  that  seemed  to  glow  with  warmer, 
softer  hues  in  welcome  of  them. 

Down  in  the  quarters  the  doors  were  thrown  wide, 
and  the  children  rolling  about  in  the  dusty  road  raised 
their  voices  in  glad  outcry  at  the  promise  of  warmth  and 
comfort,  joining  their  shrill  chatter  to  the  swelling 
chorus  of  the  birds,  who  heralded  the  fast-approaching 
spring  and  sang  in  the  same  sweet  tones  the  requiem 
of  the  dead  and  departed  winter. 

All  along  the  bayou  there  was  a  burst  of  misty  green, 
and  the  very  water  itself  seemed  to  splash  and  sparkle 
in  pure  gladness  at  the  caress  of  the  strong,  warm  sun 
light,  and  to  invite  one  to  leave  the  hot,  dusty  earth  to 
find  rest  and  comfort  in  the  coolness  of  its  rippling 
depths. 

At  the  big  house  the  soft  breezes  blew  joyously 
through  the  open  windows  and  filled  the  great  rooms 

189 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

with  the  strong,  sweet  odors  of  the  budding  fields  and 
forests. 

In  the  dining  room  Aunt  Betty,  having  finished  her 
breakfast,  carefully  folded  her  napkin,  and  sat  for  a 
moment  gazing  out  of  the  window  before  her. 

"  I  think,"  said  she,  u  that  the  winter  is  over,  and  I 
also  think  that  I  shall  go  driving  this  morning." 

Carey  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the  table  and 
arose.  "  All  right,  Aunt  Betty,"  said  he,  "  I  will  order 
your  phaeton,  and  I  will  also  order  Nick  to  begin  prepa 
rations  for  planting  immediately.  I  have  only  needed 
this  to  convince  me  that  the  cold  weather  is  over." 

Aunt  Betty  smiled  and  nodded  her  head  approvingly. 
"  You  can  begin  safely  whenever  you  wish,"  said  she. 

It  had  long  been  her  custom  to  go  out  in  her  phaeton 
on  what  she  considered  the  first  spring  day  of  the  year, 
and  so  successful  had  she  been  in  choosing  that  day  that 
she  was  now  considered  infallible.  In  all  the  country 
about  Belrive  the  appearance  of  Aunt  Betty  and  her 
phaeton  was  the  signal  that  the  winter  was  over  and 
the  comforting  assurance  that  the  planter  could  plant 
his  crop,  be  it  what  it  might,  without  fear  of  cold  or 
frost. 

She  never  drove  in  the  winter,  as  she  hated  the  cold, 
and  her  annual  spring  excursion  was  always  a  thing  of 
great  joy  and  pride  to  her,  although  she  always  spent 
a  week  or  two  in  terror  afterwards,  fearing  that  a 
norther,  appearing  unexpectedly,  would  spoil  the  crops 
of  those  who  had  trusted  in  her,  and  ruin  forever  her 
reputation  as  a  weather  prophet. 

Therefore  it  was  that  a  half-hour  later  she  descended 

190 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

the  stairs,  with  the  stern  dignity  of  a  judge,  gazing 
knowingly  through  a  pair  of  heavy  black  eyeglasses, 
which  she  put  on  only  for  this  occasion.  She  would 
liked  to  have  smiled,  as  she  was  in  a  very  good  humor, 
but  the  importance  of  her  mission  forbade  it,  and  the 
consequences  of  a  norther  coming  suddenly  to  her,  she 
walked  out  upon  the  gallery  in  the  most  majestic  man 
ner  imaginable. 

Mrs.  Gordon  and  Marjorie,  who  were  waiting  there 
for  her,  received  her  in  silence,  as  they  always  did  upon 
this  occasion,  and  Aunt  Betty,  after  having  kissed  them 
gravely,  after  the  manner  of  a  person  who  is  going 
upon  a  long,  dangerous  journey,  descended  the  steps 
and  was  assisted  into  the  phaeton  by  Carey. 

Having  arranged  herself  comfortably,  she  slapped 
the  reins  upon  the  brown  pony's  back.  "  I  shall  be  back 
for  lunch,"  she  announced  as  the  phaeton  moved  off, 
and  the  true  herald  of  the  spring  went  upon  her  way 
amid  a  cheerful  chorus  of  good-bys  from  the  gallery. 

And  so  Aunt  Betty  drove  away  and  went  out  on  the 
brown,  dusty  road  toward  Landry,  bringing  with  her 
the  promise  of  the  spring  to  all  those  who  saw  her, 
and  many  were  the  tenants  who  went  to  examine  care 
fully  their  store  of  seed  when  she  had  passed.  On 
she  went,  sitting  very  straight  in  her  phaeton,  slapping 
the  lazy  pony  vigorously  with  the  reins,  until  she  came 
to  the  store  of  Monsieur  Landry,  and  there  she  stopped 
and  called  for  some  one  to  come  out  to  her. 

Monsieur  Landry  came  out  himself,  his  face 
wreathed  in  smiles.  "  Well,  well,  Miss  Betty,  we  have 
looked  for  you  for  some  time,"  he  cried  as  he  came 

191 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

hurrying  down  the  steps  of  his  porch.  "  And  the  win 
ter,  it  is  over  now,  is  it  not?  We  will  all  commence 
to  plant,  I  am  sure." 

Aunt  Betty  permitted  herself  a  smile,  just  the  faintest 
trace  of  a  smile,  and  surveyed  the  storekeeper  through 
the  black  eyeglasses  in  a  very  knowing  way.  "  It  is  my 
opinion  that  the  winter  is  over,  Monsieur  Landry," 
said  she,  "  but  then  you  know  nothing  is  certain." 

"  Except  yourself,  Miss  Betty,"  interrupted  Mon 
sieur  Landry  gallantly. 

Again  Aunt  Betty  smiled,  this  time  a  good,  honest 
smile  that  could  not  be  repressed.  "  Thank  you,"  said 
she.  "  I  hope  that  you  are  right.  And  how  are  poli 
tics,  Monsieur  Landry?  " 

Monsieur  Landry  looked  very  wise  and  shook  his 
head  in  a  most  judicial  manner  before  replying.  "  Poli 
tics  are  all  mixed  up,"  he  slowly  answered.  "  It  is 
hard  to  find  out  much  about  them,  but  of  one  thing  I 
am  certain,  and  that  is  that  I  shall  support  Paul  Hebert 
for  sheriff." 

As  Monsieur  Landry  finished  speaking  he  looked  at 
Aunt  Betty  in  a  way  that  plainly  said,  "  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  if  I  support  Paul  Hebert  he  will  be 
elected." 

"  I  wish  you  and  Paul  Hebert  all  the  luck  in  the 
world,"  said  Aunt  Betty,  "  and  I  will  speak  to  Carey 
and  ask  him  to  help  you.  And  now  will  you  give  me 
the  mail,  if  it  has  come  in?  " 

Monsieur  Landry  retreated  into  his  store  and 
returned  in  a  moment  with  a  bundle  of  letters  and 
papers.  On  top  of  the  bundle  was  a  square,  thick  let- 

192 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

ter,  and  for  a  moment  Aunt  Betty  gazed  at  it,  an 
amused  smile  upon  her  face. 

"  I'll  declare,"  said  she,  "  if  she  is  not  getting  let 
ters  before  she  gets  here.  She  will  keep  you  busy,  Mon 
sieur  Landry,  with  her  mail." 

"  And  who  is  that?  "  asked  the  storekeeper. 

"  Why,  Miss  Lawrence,  of  course,"  answered  Aunt 
Betty,  "  a  young  lady  who  is  coming  to  visit  at  Belrive. 
She  will  arrive  to-day,  and  Marjorie  has  gone  over  to 
Mouton  to  meet  her." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Monsieur  Landry,  "  I  had  heard 
that  she  was  coming,  and  I  noticed  the  letter.  I  have 
heard  of  the  name  of  Lawrence  before,  but  I  cannot 
remember  when  or  where  I  heard  it.  We  old  people 
are  always  forgetful,  you  know." 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Aunt  Betty.  "  You  should  be 
thankful  that  you  are  alive.  I  think  that  every  year 
that  we  live  over  sixty  is  lagniappe.  You  would  not 
care  for  people  to  find  fault  with  the  lagniappe  that  you 
give  them  at  your  store,  would  you?  " 

"  You  are  right,  Miss  Betty,"  answered  the  store 
keeper,  "  and  I  should  not  complain,  but  it  is  the  habit 
of  old  age  to  do  so." 

"  It  is  the  habit  of  all  ages  to  complain,"  said  Aunt 
Betty.  "  My  husband  was  the  only  man  that  I  have 
ever  known  who  did  not  do  so." 

Monsieur  Landry  was  silent  for  a  moment,  perhaps 
in  respect  of  the  late  Mr.  Peters,  perhaps  because  he 
thought  that  the  reason  of  his  not  complaining  was 
that  he  was  not  allowed  to  do  so.  Perhaps  because 
of  some  other  reason,  but  nevertheless  he  was  silent. 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"Who  is  that  man  on  the  porch?"  suddenly  asked 
Aunt  Betty,  whose  keen  black  eyes  had  been  roaming 
among  the  motley  throng  of  loungers  that  clustered 
about  the  front  of  Monsieur  Landry's  store. 

"Which  of  the  men  do  you  mean,  Miss  Betty?" 
inquired  the  storekeeper. 

"  The  handsome  man  with  the  torn  coat,"  said  Aunt 
Betty.  "What  is  his  name?" 

Monsieur  Landry  snorted  in  disdain.  "  Oh !  "  re 
plied  he,  "  that  is  Numa  Le  Blanc.  He  is  worthless, 
Miss  Betty,  absolutely  worthless.  A  regular  vaga 
bond." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Aunt  Betty  smiling,  "  he  is  some 
thing  of  a  curiosity.  He  tells  the  truth  sometimes, 
when  a  lie  would  do  him  very  good  service.  Do  you 
know  of  any  other  vagabond  who  does  that,  Monsieur 
Landry?" 

The  storekeeper  shook  his  head.  "  He  is  a  strange 
creature,"  answered  he.  "  He  is  a  wild,  bad  creature, 
never  doing  good,  always  doing  harm.  He  drinks  also, 
Miss  Betty." 

"  I  know  that  he  does,"  said  Aunt  Betty,  "  for  he 
told  me  himself  that  he  did,"  and  while  she  spoke 
Numa  came  suddenly  down  from  the  store  and 
into  the  road,  his  steps  pointing  toward  the  coffee 
house  of  old  Pierre.  As  he  passed  the  phaeton  Aunt 
Betty  leaned  a  little  forward  and  called  to  him  in 
French. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hunter,  when  are  you  going  to  bring 
me  some  more  birds?  "  she  asked. 

Numa  stepped  up  to  the  phaeton  and  took  off  his 

194 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

hat  "  I  will  bring  you  birds  to-morrow,  if  you  will 
buy  them,"  said  he.  "  I  need  money  badly." 

"  To  buy  a  present  for  your  girl  with,  I  suppose?  " 
inquired  Aunt  Betty. 

Numa  shook  his  head.  "  She  shall  care  for  me  with 
out  any  presents,"  said  he.  "  She  shall  care  for  me 
without  anything.  She  shall  care  for  me  because  of 
myself." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  Aunt  Betty  approvingly.  "  But 
like  all  men,  you  have  a  very  high  opinion  of  yourself, 
Mr.  Hunter." 

Numa  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Some  one  must 
think  well  of  me,"  said  he.  "  Who  could  be  better  for 
such  a  thing  than  myself?  " 

"  Nobody,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Aunt  Betty  drily. 
"  Any  one  else  would  lack  the  imagination  necessary  for 
such  a  purpose.  And  how  is  your  girl?  " 

"  She  is  well,"  answered  Numa.  "  To-day  she  goes 
to  Belrive  to  live." 

Aunt  Betty  gave  a  little  gasp  and  turned  appealingly 
to  Monsieur  Landry,  who  had  listened  to  everything 
that  had  been  said  with  the  greatest  attention.  "  An 
other  girl  coming  to  Belrive!  "  cried  she.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  that?  If  this  keeps  on,  we  shall  have  a 
veritable  lovers'  paradise.  I  must  be  going  before  I 
hear  that  there  is  still  another  one  coming.  Good-by, 
Mr.  Hunter.  Your  conversation  has  been  both  star 
tling  and  instructing.  May  you  never  think  less  of 
yourself.  I  am  sure  that  you  cannot  think  more.  And 
good-by  to  you  also,  Monsieur  Landry,  and  good  luck 
to  Paul  Hebert.  Sometime  you  must  tell  me  all  about 

195 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

him,  for  I  am  interested  in  your  candidate.  If  you  will 
just  turn  my  horse  a  little  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you.  I 
am  going  to  drive  toward  Mouton." 

Monsieur  Landry  took  the  brown  pony  by  the  bit  and 
turned  him  in  the  direction  required. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Betty,"  cried  he,  as  she  drove  away. 
"  I  hope  that  we  shall  see  you  soon  again." 

And  so  Aunt  Betty  went  on  through  Landry,  with 
its  scattered  stores  and  dwellings,  and  presently  she 
came  to  the  long  line  of  Cherokee  hedges  that  shut  in 
the  road  to  Mouton  on  either  side.  Here  she  laid  the 
reins  in  her  lap  and  began  a  careful  inspection  of  the 
mail,  her  eyeglasses  upon  the  seat  beside  her  that  she 
might  see  the  better.  Finally  she  came  to  the  end  of 
the  hedges  and  before  her  lay  the  open  country,  with  a 
long,  white  house  standing  out  from  the  green  fields 
about  it.  This  house  was  set  deep  in  its  yard,  and  from 
its  front  to  the  gate  that  opened  upon  the  road  there 
was  a  broad  path  closed  in  on  either  side  by  closely 
growing  rows  of  China  trees. 

Across  the  front  of  this  house  there  ran  a  long  porch, 
and  upon  this  porch,  his  chair  tilted  back,  his  feet  rest 
ing  on  the  railing,  sat  a  man  deeply  absorbed  in  a  thick, 
white  pamphlet.  He  was  a  short,  stout  man  with  a 
very  red  face,  and  as  he  read  the  pamphlet  he  glared 
at  it  in  a  most  ferocious  manner,  as  though  the  words 
that  he  was  reading  were  being  spoken  to  him. 

"  Light,  sandy  soil,"  he  read  aloud  angrily.  "  Who 
ever  heard  of  such  a  thing?  " 

At  this  moment  happening  to  glance  over  the  top  of 
the  pamphlet,  he  caught  sight  of  the  phaeton  in  which 

196 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

Aunt  Betty  was  slowly  approaching  his  place.  Instantly 
his  expression  changed  and  he  smiled  as  though  very 
much  pleased.  "  Well,  if  it  isn't  Miss  Betty  herself/' 
he  cried  as  he  shoved  back  his  chair  from  the  railing 
and  sprang  to  his  feet.  Hastily  snatching  up  his  coat, 
he  ran  down  the  path  toward  the  front  gate,  putting  it 
on  as  he  went.  He  reached  the  gate  just  as  the  phaeton 
was  passing,  and  rushing  excitedly  into  the  road,  wildly 
waved  the  pamphlet  about  his  head. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Miss  Betty,  please,"  he  cried. 

Aunt  Betty  pulled  in  the  brown  pony  and  smiled 
graciously.  She  had  been  fully  prepared  to  stop  at  the 
house,  and  would  have  been  very  much  disappointed  if 
she  had  not  been  called  upon  to  do  so. 

"  And  how  are  you,  Mr.  Parker?  "  she  asked  as  the 
red-faced  man  came  up  to  her,  his  face  redder  than 
usual  from  his  recent  exertions. 

Mr.  Parker  leaned  an  arm  upon  the  side  of  the 
phaeton,  and  panted  a  moment  before  replying.  "  I'm 
fine,"  said  he,  "  but  I'm  not  much  on  running.  I'm 
afraid  I'm  getting  old." 

"  Nonsense,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Betty.  "  Every  one 
that  I  have  met  to-day  is  getting  old.  It  won't  be  long 
before  I  shall  think  that  I  am  getting  old  myself." 

Mr.  Parker  shook  his  head.  "  You  will  never 
grow  old,  Miss  Betty,"  said  he.  "  God  forbid  that 
you  should.  And  now  I  suppose  that  I  can  plant 
safely?" 

"  As  far  as  I  know  you  can,"  replied  Aunt  Betty, 
"  but  as  you  know  we  may  have  a  norther." 

"  No  norther  would  be  rude  enough  to  make  its 

197 


ALINE  OF  THE  GRAND  WOODS 

appearance  after  you  had  driven  out,  Miss  Betty,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Mr.  Parker  gallantly. 

"  Thank  you,  you  are  very  complimentary,"  smiled 
Aunt  Betty.  "  You  really  ought  to  be  complimented 
upon  your  ability  to  make  compliments  and  also  upon 
the  particularly  fine  cane  crop  that  I  am  told  you  made 
last  fall." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Parker,  rubbing  his  chin 
thoughtfully,  "  I  did  make  a  fine  crop,  and  again  I 
didn't.  You  see,  I  stuck  on  here  for  years  and  couldn't 
make  a  thing;  in  fact,  I  lost  money,  so  last  year  I  hired 
a  good  overseer,  and  he  made  a  fine  crop.  To  be  candid 
with  you,  he  was  the  one  that  made  it,  and  do  you  know 
there  is  a  funny  thing  about  it  all.  During  the  years 
when  I  tried  unsuccessfully  to  make  a  crop  I  thought 
that  if  I  could  only  succeed  I  would  be  the  happiest  man 
alive.  Last  fall,  when  I  did  make  a  good  one,  I  was 
not  half  as  much  pleased  as  I  thought  I  would  be. 
Why,  when  I  went  out  in  the  field  and  saw  all  that  cane 
I  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  it.  I  suppose  that  I  am 
very  peculiar,  but  that  was  just  the  way  I  felt  about  it." 

Aunt  Betty  eyed  him  thoughtfully  for  a  moment. 
"  My  husband  once  knew  an  old  darky,"  she  said, 
u  named  Uncle  Roy.  He  was  a  very  poor  old  darky 
and  he  lived  on  a  little  patch  of  ground  near  Mouton. 
Now,  all  Uncle  Roy  thought  about  was  money,  and  it 
was  said  that  he  used  to  pray  to  the  Lord  every  night 
to  make  him  rich.  He  also  used  to  tell  the  most  remark 
able  stories  about  what  he  would  do  if  he  had  a  hundred 
dollars. 

"  All  of  this  happened  when  they  were  putting  the 

198 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

railroad  from  New  Orleans  through  Mouton,  and  one 
day  a  railroad  official  went  to  see  Uncle  Roy  and  told 
him  that  the  road  would  have  to  go  through  his  place, 
and  that  he  wanted  to  buy  it. 

"  So  Uncle  Roy  saddled  his  pony  and  went  over  to 
Mouton  to  see  a  lawyer,  and  in  the  end  the  lawyer  sold 
the  place  for  two  thousand  dollars. 

"  '  Now,  Uncle  Roy,'  said  the  lawyer  to  him,  when 
he  had  received  the  check,  '  just  take  this  piece  of  paper 
over  to  the  bank  and  the  gentleman  there  will  give  you 
your  money.' 

"  So  Uncle  Roy  went  over  to  the  bank  and  handed  in 
his  check.  *  I'd  like  to  have  my  money  in  silver,  if  you 
please,  Boss,'  he  said  to  the  man  at  the  bank. 

"  The  man  told  him  that  he  would  give  him  as  much 
silver  money  as  he  could,  and  then  he  started  counting 
it  out  through  the  little  gate  before  him.  Uncle  Roy 
watched  him  with  his  eyes  almost  popping  out  of  his 
head,  until  finally  he  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  then 
he  called  to  the  man  to  stop. 

"'Well,  what's  the  matter?'  he  asked  Uncle  Roy. 
4  Didn't  you  say  that  you  wanted  your  money  in 
silver?" 

"  '  Yassir,'  said  Uncle  Roy,  '  but  don't  tell  me,  Boss, 
that  all  that  money's  for  me.' 

"  '  Why,  of  course  it  is,'  said  the  man,  '  and  you've 
got  a  whole  lot  more  coming  to  you.  So  far  I've  only 
counted  out  two  hundred  dollars.' 

"  Uncle  Roy  looked  at  him  for  a  long  time,  to  make 
sure  that  he  was  not  joking,  and  then  he  shoved  the 
money  back  through  the  little  gate. 

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ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  '  Here,  Boss,'  said  he,  '  you  take  all  this  money. 
I  ain't  got  no  use  for  it  and  I  might  lose  it.  Just  give 
me  six  bits,  and  I'm  gone.'  And  now,"  concluded 
Aunt  Betty,  "  how  do  you  feel  about  your  cane?  " 

"  Just  as  Uncle  Roy  felt  about  his  money,"  said  Mr. 
Parker  laughing.  "  You  always  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head,  Miss  Betty." 

"And  what  about  this  year's  crop,  Mr.  Parker?" 
inquired  Aunt  Betty. 

"  Oh,  my  overseer's  attending  to  all  that,"  replied 
Mr.  Parker.  "  I  am  busy  with  something  else.  I'm 
planting  cantaloupes." 

"  Cantaloupes !  "  gasped  Aunt  Betty. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Parker  placidly.  "  I  think 
there's  money  in  them.  Ship  them  to  the  city  in  carload 
lots,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Cantaloupes!  "  gasped  Aunt  Betty  again,  her  voice 
rising. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Parker.  "  It's  all  my  own  idea. 
I've  only  had  one  piece  of  bad  luck,  and  that  is  after 
planting  all  my  seed  in  fine,  rich  ground,  so  as  to  get  a 
good  yield,  this  book  says  that  the  seed  should  have 
been  planted  in  a  light,  sandy  soil.  Light,  sandy  soil," 
he  repeated,  slapping  the  book  disgustedly.  "But  there 
is  a  chance  of  the  book  being  wrong,  and  I  am  going 
to  leave  the  seed  where  it  is." 

Aunt  Betty  looked  at  Mr.  Parker  for  a  long  time  in 
pitying  silence.  "  You  ought  to  get  married,  Mr. 
Parker,"  said  she  finally.  "  You  need  some  one  to 
look  after  you.  You  ought  to  get  married  and  plant 


rice." 


200 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

Aunt  Betty  delivered  this  piece  of  advice  as  her 
ultimatum. 

"Rice  is  a  good  thing  to  plant,  isn't  it?"  inquired 
Mr.  Parker  innocently. 

"  It  is  better  than  cantaloupes,"  replied  Aunt  Betty. 

"  I  am  going  to  think  of  what  you  have  said," 
announced  Mr.  Parker  after  he  had  thought  for  a  few 
minutes.  "  Your  advice  is  always  good,  Miss  Betty. 
But  what  am  I  going  to  do  about  the  getting  married 
part  of  it?  Is  getting  married  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  planting  of  rice?  " 

"  In  your  case  it  most  assuredly  is,"  replied  Aunt 
Betty.  "  Just  keep  your  eyes  open  until  you  see  a  girl 
that  you  like,  and  then  come  to  me.  If  I  don't  arrange 
matters  for  you  I  shall  be  very  much  surprised." 

"  By  Jove!  I'll  do  it,"  cried  Mr.  Parker  enthusiasti 
cally,  "  and  when  I  find  her  I'm  coming  to  you  right 
away." 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  said  Aunt  Betty,  "  and  now  I 
must  drive  home,  if  I  wish  to  get  there  in  time  for 
lunch." 

Mr.  Parker  bade  her  farewell,  and  the  phaeton 
moved  away. 

"Cantaloupes!"  gasped  Aunt  Betty,  slapping  the 
brown  pony  as  though  in  punctuation,  "  who  ever  heard 
of  such  a  thing?  " 

"  Get  married  and  plant  rice,"  said  Mr.  Parker 
thoughtfully,  as  he  walked  slowly  toward  his  house. 
"  I'll  do  it.  Miss  Betty  is  a  remarkably  intelligent 
woman." 


201 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

A  few  hours  later,  far  down  on  the  road  from  Mou- 
ton,  Marjorie  was  driving  home  with  her  visitor,  Julia 
Lawrence,  and  many  and  interesting  were  the  subjects 
upon  which  they  talked  on  their  long  journey. 

Miss  Lawrence  was  a  very  pretty  girl  with  a  great 
quantity  of  golden  hair  and  a  trick  of  smiling  that  was 
charming  in  the  extreme,  for  when  she  smiled  her  face 
seemed  to  break  into  a  myriad  of  dimples  that  would 
have  made  an  impression  upon  the  most  stony-hearted 
of  men. 

And  so  these  two  young  girls  went  on  their  way  to 
Belrive,  and  when  they  arrived  at  Landry  the  sun  had 
sunk  behind  the  dark  line  of  the  Grand  Woods  and 
the  twilight  was  deepening  fast. 

"  We  must  hurry  if  we  wish  to  reach  home  before 
dark,"  said  Marjorie  as  the  carriage  turned  the  corner 
past  Monsieur  Landry's  store.  Old  Bill,  who  was  driv 
ing,  whipped  up  the  horses,  and  away  they  went  until 
they  came  to  the  road  that  led  from  the  highway  to 
Belrive,  and  there  they  stopped,  for  the  way  was 
obstructed. 

Just  ahead  of  them  a  huge  cane  cart,  driven  by  an 
old  man,  had  turned  into  the  road,  blocking  the  way 
with  its  great  breadth.  The  cart  was  piled  high  with 
furniture  and  bedding,  and  on  the  very  top  of  the  pile 
there  was  a  young  girl  holding  fast  to  the  mattress 
upon  which  she  was  seated,  her  body  swaying  gracefully 
with  the  jolting  of  the  cart. 

Miss  Lawrence,  looking  out  at  her,  declared  that  she 
was  quite  pretty  and  that  she  had  a  very  bright,  intelli 
gent  face. 

202 


AUNT    BETTY    DRIVES    OUT 

"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  who  had  looked  out  also. 
"  She  is  pretty.  She  is  the  niece  of  the  old  man  who 
is  driving  the  cart,  and  she  is  coming  to  Belrive  to  be 
one  of  our  tenants.  Carey  had  told  me  that  girl  was 
pretty,  but  she  is  prettier  than  I  expected  her  to  be. 
Just  think,  she  can  neither  read  nor  write." 

"  Poor  thing,  and  she  is  so  pretty,"  said  Miss  Law 
rence  softly,  as  the  carriage,  having  come  to  a  wider 
part  of  the  road,  shot  past  the  cart,  and  went  upon  its 
way  toward  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  big  house. 

The  girl  upon  the  mattress  gazed  after  the  carriage 
until  it  was  blotted  out  in  the  darkness  of  the  live  oaks. 

"  What  a  beautiful  lady  that  was,"  said  she  to  the 
old  man. 

The  old  man  turned  and  looked  up  at  the  girl,  whose 
figure  was  sharply  silhouetted  against  the  grayness  of 
the  sky.  "  Yes,  she  was  beautiful,  but  not  so  beautiful 
as  you,  Aline,"  answered  he  jealously. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Telesse,"  laughed  the  girl,  "you  are 
joking.  She  is  a  fine  lady  and  I — I  am  a  Cajun." 

For  a  while  she  was  silent,  looking  out  toward  the 
west,  where  the  Grand  Woods  lay  a  thin,  hazy  line  in 
the  approaching  darkness.  Suddenly  she  gave  a  little 
sob,  and  leaning  down  put  her  hand  upon  the  old  man's 
shoulder. 

"  We  shall  miss  the  old  cabin  very  much  to-night, 
Uncle  Telesse,"  said  she.  "  It  is  very  lonesome  here 
without  the  woods,  with  all  these  great,  bare  fields 
about  us." 

The  old  man's  eyes  filled  and  he  nodded  his  head, 
for  he  could  not  speak. 

203 


ALINE   OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  girl  slipped  from  the  mattress,  and  coming  down 
beside  him  put  her  arms  about  him  and  laid  her  cheek 
against  his  hard,  wrinkled  face. 

"  Ah,  Uncle  Telesse,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  been  so 
good  to  me.  How  can  I  ever  thank  you.  To  think 
that  it  was  for  me  that  you  came  to  this  great,  lonesome 
place.  I  will  work  so  hard  to  learn,  I  will  try  so  hard 
to  make  you  happy  here." 

The  old  man  patted  her  softly  with  his  great,  rough 
hand,  and  two  big  tears  rolled  down  his  weatherbeaten 
cheeks.  "  It  is  nothing,  it  is  nothing,  Aline,"  he  mut 
tered  brokenly  as  they  jolted  along  through  the  dreary 
stretch  of  fields. 

Meanwhile  at  the  big  house  all  was  hurry  and  bustle, 
and  the  lights  gleamed  from  every  window,  for  Miss 
Lawrence  had  come  to  Belrive,  and  there  were  many 
who  wished  to  give  her  welcome.  In  the  great  dining 
room  amid  the  soft  light  of  the  candles  she  sat  in  state, 
and  upon  her  the  eyes  of  Carey  Gordon  were  turned  in 
silent  worship,  for  she  had  smiled  upon  him. 

And  thus  it  was  that  two  young  girls  so  close  in  blood, 
so  distant  in  station,  came  to  Belrive  in  the  dusk  of  the 
spring  twilight;  and  thus  it  was  that  Aline  set  out  upon 
another  journey  with  the  old  man,  her  protector,  while 
far  down  in  the  Grand  Woods  the  little  cabin  stood 
dark  and  silent,  as  dreary  and  as  lonesome  as  the  cry 
of  the  night  birds  that  whirled  their  way  in  ceaseless 
flight  through  the  deserted  forest. 


204 


CHAPTER    IX 

OLD  TELESSE  MAKES  A  WISH 

FAR  down  on  the  plantation  road  at  Belrive,  set 
close  upon  the  edge  of  outreaching  rice  fields, 
was  a  low,  white  cabin,  the  very  last  of  the  long 
line  of  quarters;  standing  distinct  and  separate  and  a 
very  long  distance  from  the  rest.  There  it  stood  in  the 
gray  silence  of  the  early  morning,  showing  faint  and 
ghostly  through  the  low  trees  that  grew  about  it,  the 
tiny  porch  in  front  a  mere  blot  upon  its  hazy  whiteness, 
the  girl  who  stood  upon  it  a  mere  shadow  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  little  roof  above  her. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  stood  there,  gazing  out 
upon  the  dim  outline  of  the  road,  her  head  bent  for 
ward  listening.  Listening  for  some  sound  that  would 
break  the  deathly  stillness  about  her,  for  some  welcome 
noise  that  would  fall  upon  the  ghostly  quiet  of  the  mist- 
covered  fields,  where  the  very  insects,  harsh  disturbers 
of  the  night,  were  hushed  and  silent  and  made  no  cry. 

Suddenly  far  up  the  road  there  came  a  sound,  faint 
and  indistinct,  but  yet  a  sound,  and  the  girl  lifted  her 
head  thankfully.  "  They  are  coming,  Uncle  Telesse," 
she  cried.  "  They  are  coming." 

The  old  man  stepped  out  upon  the  porch  and  looked 
up  the  road.  Out  of  the  darkness  there  came  a  sound 

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ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

of  men's  voices  singing,  the  long,  wailing  notes  made 
soft  and  mellow  by  the  distance. 

"  Yes,  they  are  coming,"  said  he.  "  They  go  early 
to  work  at  Belrive." 

And  now  out  of  the  darkness  came  a  long,  black  line 
of  men  and  mules,  and  the  sound  of  many  hoofs  beat 
ing  upon  the  hard  road,  while  the  voices  of  the  men 
grew  stronger  and  louder  as  they  sang,  finishing  one 
verse  only  to  sing  another  and  yet  another,  as  though 
the  song  had  no  end. 

"En  er  hongry  man  looked  sad, 
En  er  hongry  man  looked  sad, 
En  er  hongry  man  said,  Lord!  Lord!  Lord! 
En  er  hongry  man  looked  sad. 

"En  er  hongry  man  was  fed, 
En  er  hongry  man  was  fed, 
En  er  hongry  man  said,  Lord !  Lord !  Lord ! 
En  er  hongry  man  was  fed. ' ' 

The  old  man  went  down  to  the  little  gate,  the  girl 
following  him,  and  together  they  leaned  upon  it  to 
watch  the  long  line  as  it  wound  its  way  toward  the  field, 
the  mules  plodding  along  in  sleepy  indifference,  the 
negroes  nodding  their  heads  in  time  with  the  song,  their 
black  faces  showing  dim  and  unnatural  in  the  half-light. 

At  the  rear  of  the  teams  rode  Carey  Gordon,  who, 
giving  a  few  brief  words  of  direction  to  his  overseer, 
stopped  at  the  gate. 

"  Comment  qa  va?  "  said  he  to  Telesse.  "  And  how 
do  you  like  Belrive?  " 

"  I  like  it  very  much,  and  the  cabin  is  very  large, 

206 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES    A    WISH 

M'sieu"  answered  the  old  man,  "  but  I  miss  the  woods 
sadly.  That  will  pass  away,  though.  And  my  team 
and  plow,  M'sieu,  what  of  them  ?  There  is  much  grass, 
and  I  would  like  to  begin  my  work  to-day." 

"  Your  team  is  at  the  stables,"  said  Carey,  "  and  you 
can  get  it  now  if  you  wish." 

"  Bien  merci"  replied  the  old  man.  "  I  will  go  and 
get  it  now,  and  perhaps  I  can  start  my  work  before  the 
sun  is  very  high.  Bring  me  my  coat  and  hat,  Aline." 

The  girl  went  into  the  house  and  brought  them 
to  him,  helping  him  on  with  them  with  as  much  tender 
care  as  though  he  had  been  a  little  child. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  Belrive,  Aline?  "  asked  Carey 
when  she  had  finished. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  and  went  out  upon  the 
road.  The  girl  looked  after  him,  and  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears,  for  she  felt  very  strange  and  lonesome 
in  her  new  surroundings. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  Belrive,  Aline?  "  asked  Carey 
again. 

The  girl  gave  a  little  sob  and  laid  her  head  upon  her 
arm. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter?  "  asked  Carey.  "  Don't 
you  like  the  place  and  this  house?  I  thought  that  you 
wanted  to  come  to  Belrive?" 

The  girl  raised  her  head  and  tried  bravely  to  smile. 
"  Oh,  yes,  M'sieu,  I  like  Belrive,"  said  she,  "  and  the 
house  is  fine,  there  is  so  much  room.  But  I  am  lone 
some,  and  I  miss  the  woods.  Ah!  M'sieu,  I  never 
thought  that  I  could  miss  them  as  I  did  but  a  moment 
ago.  It  is  all  so  dead  and  quiet  here  in  the  early  morn- 

207 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

ing,  and  I  wish  so  for  the  trees.  When  the  wind  from 
the  sea  marsh  blows  them,  before  the  day  had  broken, 
they  make  the  sweetest  music  in  the  world.  It  is  then 
that  they  seem  to  talk  to  me,  when  all  else  is  quiet  and 
asleep,  and  there  is  nothing  to  frighten  them.  The 
trees  are  very  large,  M'sleu,  but  like  all  things  in  the 
woods,  they  are  much  afraid,  and  they  will  not  tell 
their  secrets  when  the  sun  is  shining  bright  and  all  about 
may  hear  them.  Jean  has  told  me  so. 

"  I  did  not  miss  them  until  this  morning,  for  yester 
day  I  was  very  busy  putting  the  house  in  order,  and  I 
did  not  have  time  to  think  of  them,  but  now!  Ah, 
M'sieu,  forgive  me,  for  I  am  very  lonely." 

Carey  looked  at  the  mournful  little  figure  before  him 
in  silence,  and  for  a  moment  the  gray  dreariness  of  the 
morning  seized  him  also,  causing  a  great  flood  of  pity 
for  this  lonely  girl  to  rise  up  within  him.  From  the 
fields  came  the  faint  sound  of  the  negroes'  voices : 

"En  er  hongry  man  was  fed.  " 

In  some  distant  pasture  a  field  lark  sang  joyously, 
as  though  in  welcome  of  the  coming  day.  In  the  east 
the  sky  was  rosy,  streaked  with  little  points  of  fire. 

"And  the  school,  Aline?"  said  Carey  softly. 
"  What  of  the  school?  It  is  gray  and  cold  and  lonely 
now,  and  you  miss  the  woods  and  are  sad,  but  look  at 
the  sun  rising.  In  a  little  while  it  will  be  bright  and 
warm,  and  the  birds  will  sing  and  you  will  go  to  school, 
and  what  then?  " 

The  girl  bowed  her  head.  "  M'sieu,  I  have  been 

208 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES    A   WISH 

ungrateful,"  said  she.     "  It  was  very  sad  and  lonely, 
and  I  forgot  the  school.     Forgive  me." 

Carey  laughed.  "  Nonsense,"  cried  he,  "  there  is 
nothing  to  forgive.  I  shall  ask  my  sister  to  get  the 
books  for  you  when  she  goes  to  Landry  to-day,  and  you 
can  get  them  to-night  if  you  will  go  to  the  big  house." 

"  Thank  you,  M'sieu,"  said  the  girl,  her  face  bright 
with  smiles.  You  are  very  kind  to  me,  and  there  is 
something  that  I  would  like  to  ask  of  you,  it  is  about — 
about — "  she  paused  timidly,  blushing  with  confusion. 

"  About  what?  "  asked  Carey  gently. 

"  About  the  books,  M'sieu,"  replied  she.  "  I  would 
like  to  pay  you  for  them.  Not  now,  for  I  have  no 
money,  but  some  day.  I  can  work,  M'sieu,  and  can 
make  money,  and  I  wish  so  to  pay  you  for  the  books. 
I  would  be  very  happy  if  I  could  do  so." 

"  If  you  really  wish  to  pay  me  for  the  books,  Aline," 
said  Carey  after  a  moment,  "  you  can  do  so  by  making 
coffee  for  me  every  morning,  when  I  go  to  the  field. 
I  should  like  that  much  better  than  your  paying  me  in 
money." 

The  girl  smiled  at  him  happily.  "  Thank  you  very 
much,  M'sieu"  said  she  softly.  "  You  have  been 
kinder  to  me  than  I  have  deserved,  and  I  will  try  to 
make  my  coffee  the  best  in  the  world,  to  pay  you  for 
your  kindness." 

For  a  long  time  after  he  had  left  her  she  stood  upon 
the  little  porch  and  gazed  about  her  as  though  to  make 
herself  familiar  with  the  place  that  was  now  to  be  her 
home.  The  sun  rose  amid  a  mass  of  red  and  gold  and 
shone  upon  the  dreary  fields,  transforming  them  into  a 

209 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

fairyland  of  sparkling  dew  and  filmy  cobwebs,  touched 
and  sprinkled  with  tiny  drops  that  gleamed  and  shone 
like  jewels.  The  heavy  mist  raised  itself  from  the  damp 
black  earth  and  hung  in  smoky  clouds  about  it,  for  all 
the  world  like  the  aftermath  of  some  great  battle  with 
nature. 

From  all  sides  came  the  call  of  birds,  blending 
down  from  the  soft,  pleading  notes  of  the  great  brown 
thrush  that  had  made  its  home  amid  the  pale  greenness 
of  a  willow  to  the  shrill  chatter  of  the  tiny  wren,  who 
had  built  her  nest  under  the  low,  hanging  roof  of  the 
cabin. 

Aline  stepped  down  from  the  porch  into  the  long, 
dew-soaked  grass  of  the  little  garden  and  sought  for  a 
flower.  The  few  rose  bushes,  rank  and  ragged  as  the 
weeds  about  them,  were  bare  of  even  a  bud.  With  a 
sigh  she  turned  and  picked  her  way  carefully  through 
the  wet  grass  toward  the  cabin. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  little  cry  of  joy,  and  stooping, 
picked  from  its  hiding  place  amid  the  thick  growth  of 
the  garden,  a  pale,  white  flower,  pure  and  sweet  and 
very  delicate. 

"  Ah,  my  little  friend,  you  have  not  left  me,  have 
you?  How  is  it  that  you  are  here  alone,  so  far  from 
your  friends,  like  myself?  "  said  the  girl  as  she  pressed 
the  Cherokee  rose  to  her  lips. 

Going  through  the  cabin  she  came  out  into  the  little 
orchard  behind,  where  the  rows  of  pear  trees  stretched 
away  in  tall,  straight  columns  of  green,  and  the  fig  trees 
twined  their  white  and  twisted  branches  in  riotous  con 
fusion.  Here  in  the  cool  greenness  some  one  had  placed 

210 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES    A    WISH 

a  great  oaken  bench,  and  Aline,  seating  herself  upon  it, 
looked  down  the  fragrant  aisles  of  the  orchard,  her 
heart  filled  with  a  quiet  contentment. 

And  as  she  sat  thus  her  thoughts  went  back  to  the 
little  cabin  in  the  woods,  and  farther  back  to  the  days 
when  she  had  first  come  there  to  live  amid  the  vast, 
mysterious  silence,  amid  the  peace  and  quiet  and  the 
soft  whisperings  of  the  great  oaks,  her  friends.  And 
then  her  gaze,  resting  for  a  moment  upon  the 
flower  that  lay  still  and  white  against  the  dark  blue  of 
her  cottonade  skirt,  her  thoughts  went  back  further 
still,  and  she  saw  a  scene  that  she  seemed  to  have  gazed 
upon  long  years  ago.  A  scene  in  which  she  had  played 
a  part,  when  but  a  little  child,  in  which  she  had  strewn 
a  whole  apronful  of  the  fragrant  white  blossoms  upon  a 
low  green  mound,  while  an  old  man  had  looked  on 
tearfully,  and  the  birds  had  sung  as  joyously  as  though 
there  had  been  no  sorrow  in  the  world.  Again  she 
raised  the  flower  to  her  lips  and  her  eyes  were  filled 
with  a  quiet  sorrow.  Thrusting  her  hand  into  the 
bosom  of  her  dress  she  drew  forth  a  ring  that  hung 
from  her  neck  by  a  slender  golden  chain,  and  gazed  at 
it  long  and  thoughtfully. 

"  My  poor  father,"  said  she  softly.  "  This-  is  all 
that  I  have  to  remind  me  of  your  love." 

And  then  there  came  into  her  thoughts  something 
which  she  seemed  to  have  heard  many  years  ago.  "You 
must  wear  this  ring  with  the  chain  always,  and  you 
must  never  show  it  to  any  one,  unless  you  are  in  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,"  said  she  slowly,  as  though  repeating 
a  well-learned  lesson. 

211 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

uAh,  what  does  it  all  mean?  What  does  it  all 
mean?"  she  asked  herself  again  and  again. 

A  long  shadow  fell  upon  the  grass  before  her,  and 
she  thrust  the  ring  hurriedly  inside  her  dress,  turning 
to  look  behind  her  as  she  did  so. 

"  Oh!  It  is  you,  Numa,  is  it?  "  she  cried.  "  How 
you  scared  me." 

Numa  nodded.  "Where  did  you  get  that  ring, 
Aline?"  he  asked  slowly. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  where  it  came  from,  Numa,  so 
do  not  ask  me,"  replied  the  girl  quietly,  her  cheeks 
flushed  from  the  sudden  interruption  of  her  thoughts. 

Numa's  face  grew  dark.  "  I  should  think  that  you 
could  not  tell  me,"  said  he  with  a  sneer.  "  I  suppose 
he  gave  it  to  you." 

"He!  Why,  who  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  girl 
bewildered. 

"  You  know  who  I  mean,"  said  Numa,  his  voice  low 
and  trembling.  "  You  know  well  who  I  mean.  Who 
else  but  M'sieu  Gordon  gave  it  to  you?  " 

Aline  broke  into  a  loud  peal  of  girlish  laughter. 
"  Oh,  Numa,  you  are  so  silly,"  she  cried.  "  Why 
should  M'sieu  Gordon  give  me  a  ring?  Me,  a  poor 
Cajun  girl?  Whatever  made  you  think  of  such  a  thing 
as  that?  Is  it  a  joke,  Numa?  " 

Numa  glared  at  her,  his  eyes  blazing.  "  A  joke?  " 
shouted  he,  his  anger  overcoming  him.  "  Yes,  it  is  a 
joke,  and  a  grim  one,  too.  Why,  indeed,  should  he 
give  you  a  ring.  But  I  will  make  him  sorry  for  this. 
He  will  wish  that  he  is  dead  before  I  am  through  with 
him.  I  will " 

212 


OLD    TELESSE    MAKES   A   WISH 

"  Stop !  "  cried  the  girl,  her  laughter  gone  in  a 
moment,  her  face  white,  her  little  hands  clenched. 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Numa?  I  have  never 
seen  you  act  in  this  way  before.  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean,  but  if  you  seek  to  hurt  M'sieu  Gordon  I 
shall  hate  you.  He  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  you 
should  like  him  for  it.  You  are  bad  and  wicked  and 
I  will  not  talk  to  you  to-day.  Go  away  and  do  not 
come  again  until  you  can  speak  more  kindly." 

The  girl  turned  away  from  him  and  walked  slowly 
toward  the  cabin,  tears  of  surprise  and  anger  in  her 
eyes. 

Numa  ran  after  her.  "  Forgive  me,  Aline,"  he 
cried.  "  I  was  only  joking  and  am  sorry  that  you  took 


me  in  earnest." 


Aline  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  Numa,"  said  she, 
"  you  were  not  joking.  It  is  wicked  to  lie.  Go  away 
now,  or  I  shall  hate  you." 

"But  the  ring?"  pleaded  Numa.  "He  did  not 
give  it  to  you,  did  he?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  girl.  "  He  did  not.  You  are 
very  foolish  to  ask  me  such  a  question." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  not  as  foolish  as  you  think,"  said 
Numa  as  he  strode  sullenly  away. 

When  the  old  man  returned  with  his  team  he  found 
Aline  working  silently  in  the  kitchen,  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked.  "  Are  you 
still  so  lonesome  for  the  woods?" 

Briefly  the  girl  told  him  of  Numa's  visit,  of  what 
he  had  said  and  of  how  strangely  he  had  acted,  and 

213 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

while  she  spoke  the  old  man's  face  grew  exceedingly 
grave. 

"  Why  did  he  talk  and  act  so  queerly,  Uncle 
Telesse?  "  she  asked  when  she  had  finished. 

The  old  man  said  never  a  word,  but  gazed  for  a  long 
time  through  the  open  door  before  him,  thinking.  Far 
away  in  the  fields  he  could  see  the  men  at  work  and  a 
figure  upon  a  horse  which  he  knew  was  Carey  Gordon. 
Back  of  the  horseman  and  far  away  in  the  distance  were 
the  Grand  Woods,  a  long,  dark  streak  along  the  hori 
zon,  half-hidden  by  the  hazy  mist  that  hung  above  the 
field. 

Aline  came  over  to  the  old  man  and  put  her  arms 
about  him. 

"  You  have  forgotten  what  I  asked  you,  Uncle 
Telesse,"  said  she. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  No,  no,"  he 
answered.  "  I  heard  what  you  said.  I  was  wishing." 

"Wishing?"  said  the  girl  with  a  little  smile. 
"  Wishing  for  what,  Uncle  Telesse?  " 

The  old  man  looked  at  her  and  found  'her  very 
beautiful.  "  I  was  wishing  that  we  had  never  left 
the  Grand  Woods,  Aline,"  said  he  sadly. 


214 


CHAPTER   X 

A  RAIN 

OF  course,"  said  Aunt  Betty  from  her  post  at 
the  parlor  window,  "  if  you  wish  to  get  wring 
ing  wet,  you  had  better  go.     But  if  you  will 
take  my  advice  you  will  stay  where  you  are  and  not  run 
the  danger  of  catching  your  death  of  cold  by  riding 
about  in  such  weather." 

Turning  she  faced  the  disconsolate  group  before  her, 
as  though  inviting  some  one  to  contradict  the  truth  of 
her  statement. 

"  But,  Aunt  Betty,"  ventured  Carey,  "  it  isn't  rain 
ing  yet,  and  it  may  hold  off  until  night.  Besides,  the 
horses  have  been  saddled  and  we  are  all  ready  to  go." 

"  And  Julia  wants  to  go  so  much,"  interposed  Mar- 
jorie  pathetically.  "  She  has  been  here  a  whole  week, 
and  she  hasn't  even  been  in  the  field  once.  She  has 
never  seen  rice  planted,  either.  Tom  says  it  isn't  going 
to  rain,  anyhow." 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  cried  Tom  Bayne  hastily.  "  I  said 
that  I  didn't  think  it  would  rain.  Didn't  I,  Miss 
Julia?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Lawrence  uncertainly,  "  I  believe 
you  did  say  so." 

215 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

During  this  burst  of  explanations  Aunt  Betty  had 
preserved  a  stony  calmness,  waiting  quietly  until  every 
one  had  spoken,  when  she  left  the  window  and  made 
her  way  toward  the  door.  Having  reached  it  she 
paused  for  a  moment  and  delivered  her  parting  shot. 
"  After  you  have  all  died  of  pneumonia  you  will  wish 
that  you  had  taken  my  advice,"  said  she  prophetically. 

The  little  group  in  the  parlor  listened  to  her  in  guilty 
silence  as  she  climbed  the  stairway,  a  smile  of  satisfac 
tion  broadening  upon  every  face  as  they  heard  the  door 
of  her  room  slam  heavily  above  them. 

Tom  Bayne  scratched  his  head  reflectively.  "  I  don't 
just  see  how  we  can  wish  anything  when  we  are  dead," 
said  he. 

"  Perhaps  she  meant  in  some  future  existence,"  sug 
gested  Carey. 

"  I  hardly  think  so,"  said  Miss  Lawrence,  "  when 
you  consider  that  in  our  future  existence  a  rainstorm 
would  very  probably  be  rather  an  inducement  for  going 
out  than  otherwise." 

"  And  she  didn't  say  a  word  about  uncle's  going  out 
in  the  rain,"  added  Marjorie,  looking  very  much 
surprised. 

"  Perhaps  she  didn't  let  him,"  replied  Tom  Bayne  in 
the  tone  of  one  stating  a  fact. 

"  Well,"  said  Carey,  moving  toward  the  door,  "  it 
is  long  past  my  time  for  going  to  the  field,  and  I  must 
be  off.  If  you  are  coming  with  me,  come  now  or  be 
forever  left  behind." 

And  so  it  was  that  in  a  few  moments  the  four  were 
loping  swiftly  down  the  plantation  road,  bound  for  the 

216 


A    RAIN 

field  and  the  planting,  while  the  dark  clouds  spread 
themselves  swiftly  overhead  as  though  to  punish  them 
for  their  rashness.  Far  away  in  the  north,  lying  close 
to  the  earth,  was  a  great  black  cloud,  its  threatening 
gloom  broken  by  tiny  flashes  of  lightning,  while  all 
about  it  the  sky  was  gray  and  dark  and  tinged  with 
inky  blackness. 

Way  off  in  the  distance  there  was  the  dull  rum 
ble  of  the  approaching  thunder,  and  the  wind  blew 
cool  and  strong,  touched  with  the  freshness  of  the  com 
ing  rain. 

"  It  is  worse  outside  than  I  thought,"  said  Carey  to 
Miss  Lawrence,  who  rode  beside  him.  "  Do  you  want 
to  turn  back?  " 

Miss  Lawrence  laughed.  "  Of  course  not," 
answered  she.  "  It  will  not  hurt  me  if  it  does  rain.  I 
don't  seem  able  to  make  you  understand  that  I  was 
raised  on  a  plantation  myself,  and  am  just  as  used  to 
such  things  as  you  are." 

"And  the  pneumonia?"  said  Carey  jokingly. 
"  Have  you  thought  of  that?  " 

"  No,"  laughed  Miss  Lawrence,  giving  her  pony  a 
touch  with  the  whip.  "  I  shall  have  ample  time  to 
think  of  that  in  my  future  existence." 

"  Good  Lord!  "  said  Tom,  to  whom  this  last  remark 
had  been  borne  on  the  wind.  "  Those  people  are  still 
talking  about  their  future  existence.  I  don't  like  it. 
It  gives  me  the  creeps.  I  suppose  that  Aunt  Betty 
will  be  disappointed  if  we  don't  all  catch  pneumonia 
and  die." 

"  Well,  I  think  that  she  will  have  the  satisfaction  of 

217 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

seeing  us  wet  through,"  said  Marjorie,  "  but  I  won't 
mind  it  a  bit.  It  will  be  such  fun.  Just  like  old  times, 
Tom." 

uAh!  the  old  times,"  began  Tom.  "How  I 
wish " 

Marjorie,  leaning  from  her  saddle,  touched  his  arm. 
"  That  is  where  Aline,  Carey's  pretty  coffee  girl,  lives," 
said  she  as  they  flashed  past  a  low,  white  cabin  by  the 
roadside. 

"  Oh,  does  she?  "  replied  Tom,  grown  sulky  at  this 
interruption.  "  I  suppose  that  she  is  as  ugly  and  as 
uninteresting  as  Carey  thinks  her  beautiful  and 
clever." 

"  You  should  see  her  first,  and  then  judge  her,"  said 
Marjorie  rebukingly  as  they  scrambled  up  the  shallow 
ditch  that  separated  the  road  from  the  field. 

And  now,  under  the  guidance  of  Carey,  they  made 
their  way  over  the  puzzling  maze  of  levees,  and  pres 
ently  they  came  to  the  series  of  cuts  where  the  planting 
was  in  progress.  All  about  them,  as  they  had  ridden 
down  the  plantation  road,  the  fields  had  lain  brown  and 
flat  and  silent,  with  never  a  sound,  with  never  a  move 
ment  to  mar  the  quiet  of  their  level  barrenness;  seem 
ing  to  sleep  in  peaceful  expectation  until  the  tiny  seeds, 
so  closely  sheltered  in  their  earthy  bosoms,  would 
glorify  them  with  life  and  color. 

But  here  before  them  all  was  different,  all  was  life 
and  sound  and  ceaseless  movement,  ending  only  when 
the  kindly  night  would  softly  draw  her  veil  of  darkness 
above  the  torn,  trampled  earth  and  gently  soothe  it  with 
the  warm,  caressing  breezes  of  the  twilight. 

218 


A    RAIN 

Here  the  teams  went  round  and  round  inside  the  walls 
of  the  levees  that  closed  them  in,  ever  moving  in  an 
endless  circle,  from  cut  to  cut,  from  acre  to  acre.  On 
and  on  they  went,  the  great  disk  harrows  in  the  lead, 
their  round,  shining  blades  cutting  and  chopping  the 
earth  into  small  fragments,  slicing  and  tearing  the 
great  grass-covered  clods,  until  the  dust  from  them 
rose  into  the  air  like  smoke,  to  be  whipped  away  by 
the  wind. 

And  behind  them  were  the  drag  harrows,  great, 
heavy  frames  of  iron  and  steel,  armed  with  a  multitude 
of  long,  sharpened  spikes  which,  seizing  upon  the 
smaller  clods  of  earth  that  had  escaped  destruction  by 
the  disks,  dragged  them  torn  and  broken  into  the  soft, 
powdery  seed  bed.  Last  of  all  came  the  huge  drill 
with  its  many  tiny  wheels  and  disks  and  spouts  press 
ing  its  gift  of  golden  grain  into  the  warm,  grateful 
bosom  of  the  earth,  drawing  over  it  a  strong,  rich  cover, 
through  which  in  time  the  tiny  shoots  would  force  their 
way  to  the  welcome  sunlight. 

And  so  these  great  machines  of  steel  and  wood  and 
iron,  these  inanimate  helpers  of  nature,  made  their 
way  in  ever-decreasing  circles  around  the  cuts,  each 
pulled  by  its  four  mules,  each  driven  by  its  dusky  driver, 
each  taking  its  part  in  the  work  that  was  presently  to 
clothe  the  barren  fields  with  the  greenness  and  fresh 
ness  of  the  newborn  crop. 

All  about  the  teams,  hovering  in  the  air  above  them, 
pecking  in  the  ground  below  them,  hopping  upon  the 
levees  around  them,  were  the  birds;  the  tiny  sparrows, 
the  large  black  birds,  the  great  chalks,  ragged  and 

219 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

rusty  as  though  worn  by  wind  and  weather,  all  fighting 
and  chattering  and  digging  for  the  tiny  grains  of  rice, 
forgetting  in  their  excitement  to  shrink  from  their 
common  enemy,  Man.  And  all  about  upon  the  ground, 
running  swiftly  from  one  clod  to  another,  dashing 
terror-stricken  between  the  hoofs  of  the  mules,  burrow 
ing  deep  within  the  levees,  were  the  tiny  field  mice, 
fleeing  panic-stricken  from  the  huge  iron  monsters 
which,  having  destroyed  their  homes,  now  sought  with 
an  unquenchable  ferocity  to  take  their  very  lives. 

For  a  while  the  little  group  looked  at  the  busy  scene 
before  them,  while  Carey  explained  to  Miss  Lawrence 
the  many  details  of  the  planting. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  "  if  you  will  come  over  this 
way,  I  will  show  you  how  the  rice  is  sown  broad 


cast." 


So  the  four,  turning  their  horses,  came  presently  to 
a  cut,  where,  as  in  the  one  that  they  had  just  left,  the 
teams  made  their  way  in  circles,  but  here  the  great  drill 
was  missing,  and  in  its  place  was  a  little  two-wheeled 
cart  drawn  by  a  small  and  very  ragged  mule.  Seated 
in  the  back  of  this  cart,  a  large  tin  bucket  of  seed  held 
tightly  between  his  knees,  was  Nicholas  Wilson,  and 
ever  and  anon,  as  the  cart  rolled  slowly  behind  the 
harrows,  he  dug  his  hands  into  the  bucket  and  scat 
tered  the  seed  in  a  glistening  shower  far  and  wide. 

As  the  little  party  headed  by  Carey  made  their  way 
into  the  cut  where  he  was  planting,  Nicholas  Wilson 
stopped  the  cart  and  pulled  off  his  hat. 

"  Howdy?"  said  he.  "I  jest  guess  you  all  hain't 
much  skeered  of  rain,  are  you?  " 

220 


A    RAIN 

"Oh!  Mr.  Wilson,  is  it  going  to  rain?"  asked 
Marjorie. 

"  It  sure  is,"  replied  Wilson.  "  Jest  look  at  the 
sky  if  you  don't  think  so.  Besides,  the  ground  hain't 
been  full  of  cobwebs  for  the  last  two  days  for 
nawthing." 

"  This  is  Miss  Lawrence,  from  New  Orleans,"  ex 
plained  Carey. 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Wilson.  "  I  used  to  know 
a  man  named  Lawrence  in  Colorado.  Buck  Lawrence 
they  used  to  call  him.  He  got  all  shot  up  rustlin' 
cattle." 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  have  any  relatives  in  Colo 
rado,"  said  Miss  Lawrence  smiling. 

"  Sure  you  hain't,"  replied  Wilson  hastily.  "  And 
even  if  you  did  I  don't  guess  they'd  have  to  rustle  cattle 
for  a  livin'.  I  jest  happened  to  think  of  Buck,  that  was 
all.  He  was  a  regular — well,  he  was  a  pretty  tough 
proposition." 

'*  We  have  been  showing  Miss  Lawrence  how  to 
plant  rice,"  said  Marjorie,  laughing  at  the  overseer's 
apology,  to  his  utter  confusion. 

"  Well,"  answered  Wilson,  u  I  guess  you've  seen  it 
all,  except  some  rice  that  I'm  having  soaked  to  plant  in 
the  coulee.  I'll  have  to  drag  it  into  the  mud  with  a 
harrow,  you  know,"  he  added  in  explanation  to  Miss 
Lawrence. 

"  And  here's  your  rain,  Margey,"  said  Tom  Bayne 
as  he  slid  from  his  horse  and  began  to  tug  at  the  raw 
hide  things  which  fastened  his  slicker  to  the  back  of  his 
saddle. 

221 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

While  the  four  young  people  had  been  talking  to 
Wilson  the  sky  had  grown  darker  and  darker,  and  when 
at  Tom  Bayne's  exclamation  they  now  looked  about 
them  they  saw  the  storm  approaching  in  all  its  fury. 

In  the  north  the  sky  was  inky  black,  and  in  that 
direction,  coming  swiftly  toward  them,  tossing  the 
branches  of  the  distant  live  oaks  wildly,  heralded  by  an 
icy  blast  of  wind,  they  could  see  the  rain. 

On  it  came,  stretching  across  the  field  before  them 
in  a  thick  white  wall,  beating  down  the  weeds  and  grass 
on  the  roadside,  boring  great  holes  in  the  soft  earth  of 
the  seed  beds,  running  in  broken,  swiftly  flowing  streams 
from  the  tops  of  the  levees,  leaving  the  cobwebs,  which 
had  told  of  its  coming,  a  mass  of  broken,  twisted,  spray- 
lashed  threads  behind  it. 

On  it  came  with  a  dull,  even,  roaring  sound,  driving 
the  negroes  from  the  field,  to  ride  swiftly  in  little 
shelter-seeking  groups  far  up  the  road;  scaring  the  birds 
from  their  feast  of  pilfered  seed,  to  whirl  away  in 
startled  terror  toward  the  wind-beaten  woods ;  hurrying 
the  tiny  field  mice  into  the  twisting  tunnels  of  the  levees, 
filling  the  air  with  the  mist  of  the  shattered,  broken 
raindrops. 

Hastily  wrapping  the  two  girls  in  their  saddle- 
slickers,  Carey  and  Tom  Bayne  hurried  them  across  the 
field  toward  the  road,  while  Nicholas  Wilson,  follow 
ing  close  behind  them,  raised  his  voice  above  the  wind, 
crying:  "Line  out  for  the  old  man's  cabin,  and  I'll 
keep  on  to  the  stables  and  see  that  the  teams  get  in 
all  right." 

And  so  they  rode  helter-skelter  up  the  road  toward 

222 


A    RAIN 


the  low,  white  cabin,  with  a  great  pounding  of  hoofs 
and  fluttering  of  garments,  while  the  rain  following 
close  behind  them  roared  with  a  dull,  sullen  fury  as 
though  angry  at  not  being  able  to  give  them  the  drench 
ing  they  so  richly  deserved. 


223 


CHAPTER   XI 

AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES 

MEANWHILE,    in    the    little    cabin    toward 
which   the  horses  were  making  their  way, 
Aline   had  sat  all   afternoon   spinning,   her 
wheel  placed  near  the  open  window,  through  which  she 
looked,  whenever  her  work  permitted  her,  at  the  gather 
ing  darkness  outside.     Sprawling  at  her  feet  lay  Jean 
Le  Bossu,  his  white  face  ever  uplifted  toward  her  as 
he  watched  her  at  her  task. 

Swiftly  went  the  rough,  oaken  wheel,  urged  by  her 
tiny  foot,  and  swiftly  grew  the  long,  yellow  thread 
which  she  spun  from  the  fluffy  mass  of  nankeen  cotton 
held  loosely  in  her  hand.  Nimbly  her  fingers  guided 
the  saffron  rolls  into  the  swiftly  turning  thread  that 
spun  and  jumped  and  twisted  in  its  short  journey  to 
the  reel.  Lying  by  the  side  of  Jean  were  the  little 
spike-covered  paddles  with  which  she  had  carded  the 
cotton,  while  a  great  corncob  reel  of  heavy  yellow 
thread  showed  that  her  work  that  day  had  not  gone  for 
nothing. 

And  so  she  sat  in  the  dull,  yellow  light  of  the  clouded 
day,  the  low,  mellow  hum  of  her  wheel  sounding  as  a 
soft  accompaniment  to  the  rumbling  of  the  distant 
thunder. 

224 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

"  Ah,  Jean,"  said  she,  "  you  do  not  know  how  nice 
it  is  to  be  able  to  spin.  I  shall  thank  Madame  Joe  all 
my  life  for  having  taught  me  to  do  so." 

Le  Bossu  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silent  admira 
tion.  "  It  is  fine,"  he  answered.  "  And  one  of  these 
days,  when  you  have  nothing  to  do,  will  you  make  a 
little  piece  of  cloth  for  me?" 

Aline  pointed  to  the  huge  homemade  loom  that  filled 
a  corner  of  the  room.  "  The  first  cloth  that  I  weave 
will  be  for  my  Jean,"  said  she. 

Le  Bossu  pressed  the  hand  that  she  held  out  to  him. 
"  And  I  shall  wear  the  cloth  until  it  is  worn  to  rags," 
he  whispered  softly. 

"  Tell  me  of  the  woods,  Jean,"  said  the  girl.  "  I 
miss  them  so,  and  none  but  you  can  tell  me  of  them." 

Le  Bossu  drew  his  knees  up  under  his  chin  and 
clasped  his  long  arms  about  them.  "  The  trees  are  all 
covered  with  little  green  buds,"  said  he.  "  The  violets 
bloom  in  the  dead  heart  of  the  great  oak  by  the  coulee , 
and  the  wood  ducks  dive  there  alone  in  the  early  morn 
ing.  The  snipe  fly  slow  in  the  sea  marsh  and  the  waters 
of  the  bayou  are  blue  with  the  flowers  of  the  wild  iris. 
The  fish  lie  deep  in  the  lake  and  the  prairies  are  white 
with  the  pistaches  sauvages. 

"  The  leaves  are  sweet  and  fresh  on  the  gum  trees, 
and  the  vines  of  the  dewberry  bloom  in  the  new  grass 
of  the  forest.  The  spring  has  come,  Aline.  All  of  the 
leaves  are  out,  save  those  on  the  pecan  trees,  and  even 
they  will  come  ere  many  days,  for  I  have  seen  the  buds 
far  up  in  their  tops,  where  they  hide  from  those  who 
wish  to  see  them." 

225 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  How  I  wish  that  I  could  be  in  the  woods  to  see 
the  spring,  Jean,"  said  the  girl  wistfully,  pausing  in  her 
work  to  look  fondly  at  the  little  man  beside  her. 

Le  Bossu  stroked  his  knee  softly.  "  And  how  much 
do  I  wish  that  you  were  there?  "  asked  he.  "  The  sun 
is  not  as  bright,  the  air  is  not  as  sweet,  the  sky  is  not  as 
blue,  since  you  are  gone.  The  birds  sing  sadly  in  the 
sunshine;  the  trees  cry  and  moan  through  the  long 
nights,  and  when  the  great  winds  blow  in  from  the  sea 
marsh  the  whole  forest  seems  to  cry  Aline,  Aline." 

The  little  man  sank  his  head  upon  his  folded  arms 
that  she  might  not  see  his  look  of  utter  desolation. 

"  And  do  you  go  often  to  the  woods  from  Landry?  " 
asked  Aline  softly. 

Le  Bossu  nodded.  "  I  cannot  stay  away  from  them," 
said  he.  u  It  is  lonely  there  since  you  are  gone,  but  it 
is  better  than  Landry.  For  two  nights  I  lay  in  the 
town,  listening  for  the  whispering  of  the  trees,  and 
sleep  would  not  come  to  me.  On  the  third  night  I  went 
to  the  woods,  and  there  I  slept  for  many  hours.  I  have 
slept  there  ever  since.  Numa  says  that  I  am  a  fool, 
but  I  cannot  live  in  Landry." 

"And  Numa?"  asked  Aline.  "Does  he  go  often 
to  the  woods?  " 

Le  Bossu  shook  his  head.  "  He  has  not  been  there 
since  we  left,"  said  he.  And  then  he  added  sulkily,  as 
though  saying  something  that  he  did  not  wish  to  say, 
"  Numa  goes  about  Landry  in  fine,  new  clothes,  and  all 
the  girls  are  mad  about  him." 

To  this  Aline  answered  never  a  word,  but  went  on 
with  her  spinning. 

226 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

Le  Bossu  stared  at  her  amazed,  his  heart  cold  with 
fear.  He  saw  again  the  look  upon  the  crafty  Numa's 
face,  the  look  that  had  been  there  when  he  had  told  him 
what  to  say.  He  heard  again  the  low,  cunning  laugh, 
the  short,  triumphant  question,  "  Will  she  be  jealous, 
Jean?  Will  she  be  jealous,  eh?  " 

"  Numa  goes  much  with  the  daughter  of  Old  Victor. 
She  is  a  pretty  girl,"  ventured  Le  Bossu,  eyeing  the  girl 
furtively. 

Aline  stopped  her  spinning  and  leaned  forward. 
"  There  is  one  who  wishes  that  he  would  marry  her," 
said  she. 

"  And  that  one  is?  "  asked  Jean  breathlessly. 

"  Aline  of  the  Grand  Woods,"  replied  the  girl,  look 
ing  at  the  little  man  steadily. 

Le  Bossu  sighed  happily.  "  God  is  very  good," 
said  he. 

For  a  while  the  two  were  silent,  the  girl  spinning  out 
the  long  cotton  thread  before  her,  Le  Bossu  rocking  to 
and  fro  at  her  feet,  while  the  thunder  grew  louder  and 
nearer,  and  the  cool,  fresh  wind  blew  in  from  the  open 
window. 

"  And  now  tell  me  of  yourself,  Aline,"  said  the  little 
man.  "  Tell  me  of  the  school  and  of  what  you  have 
learned  there." 

"  I  am  learning  much,"  replied  the  girl  brightly. 
"  It  is  all  so  new,  and  I  love  it  so.  When  my  spinning 
is  done  I  take  my  books  that  M'sieu  Gordon  has  given 
me,  and  I  work  until  it  is  late  in  the  night.  I  call  it 
work,  but  it  is  not  work,  Jean.  To  me  it  is  the  greatest 
of  all  pleasures." 

227 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"And  the  school?  "  asked  Le  Bossu. 

"  It  is  very  nice  there,"  answered  the  girl,  "  and  the 
teacher  is  very  good  and  kind  to  me.  She  says  that  I 
learn  quickly,  that  in  a  few  weeks  I  could  go  to  the 
convent  at  Mouton,  where  they  would  teach  me  many 
things  that  she  cannot  teach  me  here.  Ah,  to  go  to  the 
convent,  Jean,  to  the  convent  at  Mouton !  "  She  paused, 
her  eyes  sparkling  at  the  mere  thought  of  such  good 
fortune. 

"  At  the  foot  of  the  great  oak  on  Bayou  des  Arbres 
I  have  cured  some  skins,"  began  Lc  Bossu. 

The  girl  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  leaning  forward 
patted  the  little  man's  shoulder.  "  It  would  not  be 
enough,  dear  Jean,"  said  she.  "  Such  a  thing  is  some 
thing  to  dream  of.  That  is  all." 

"If  I  caught  many  fish,  if  I  killed  many  deer?" 
asked  Le  Bossu  eagerly. 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  Jean," 
said  she.  "  It  would  take  a  great  deal  of  money. 
More  than  we  will  ever  have." 

Rising,  she  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  wip 
ing  away  the  tears  of  gratitude  as  she  did  so,  that  the 
little  man  might  not  see  them. 

"  The  rain  is  almost  here,"  said  she. 

u  The  swallows  flew  low  this  morning,"  replied  Le 
Bossu  from  his  place  on  the  floor.  "  They  are  like  all 
the  other  wild  things  of  the  forest.  They  never  lie." 

Going  across  the  room  the  girl  took  down  a  book 
from  the  shelf  above  the  open  fire,  and  went  back  to 
her  seat  by  the  window.  "  If  you  would  like  me  to, 
Jean,  I  will  read  to  you,"  she  said  timidly. 

228 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

The  hunchback  moved  his  twisted  body  close  beside 
the  chair,  and  looked  up  into  her  face.  "  I  would 
rather  hear  you  read  than  listen  to  the  sweetest  music 
ever  played,"  said  he. 

Aline  laughed.  "  Would  you  have  me  become  vain, 
Jean?  "  she  asked. 

Le  Bossu  shook  his  head.  "  Is  the  flower  vain  when 
it  lifts  its  head  to  the  sunlight?  Is  the  bird  vain  when 
it  sings  its  song  in  the  forest?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  are  a  queer  fellow,  Jean,"  replied  the  girl  as 
she  opened  the  book,  u  but  I  love  you  all  the  more 
because  of  it." 

Bending  her  pretty  head  she  slowly  read  out  the 
words  of  the  simple  lesson,  while  the  little  man  looked 
up  at  her  in  rapt  silence,  his  heart  filled  with  pride,  with 
admiration  and  devotion.  And  as  they  sat  thus,  the 
first  heavy  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall,  pounding  loudly 
upon  the  shingle  roof  overhead. 

Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  voices 
calling  loudly  from  the  road,  and  the  girl,  putting  down 
her  book,  hurried  to  the  door. 

"  It  is  M'sieu  Gordon!  "  she  cried  to  Le  Bossu  as 
she  threw  it  open. 

And  now  there  burst  into  the  room,  with  much 
laughter  and  with  many  little  screams  of  excitement, 
Marjorie  and  Miss  Lawrence,  both  of  them  being  so 
completely  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  the  great  slickers 
which  wrere  wrapped  about  them  that  it  would  have 
been  very  difficult  to  tell  them  apart.  Quickly  throw 
ing  off  the  huge  waterproof  coat  with  which  she  was 
encumbered,  Marjorie  ran  to  the  back  door  of  the 

229 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

cabin,  and  there  she  watched  with  much  amusement 
the  frantic  efforts  of  Carey  and  Tom  Bayne  who,  with 
the  assistance  of  Le  Bossu,  were  trying  to  tie  the  four 
struggling  ponies  beneath  the  tiny  shed  in  the  orchard. 
Miss  Lawrence  hurried  to  the  door  also,  and  Aline 
following  timidly  behind  her,  they  stood  there  watching 
until  the  last  horse  had  been  tied,  and  the  three  men 
came  running  toward  them  through  the  rain,  which  was 
now  falling  in  a  steady  white  sheet. 

"  My,  but  I'm  wet,"  gasped  Carey  as  he  stood  pant 
ing  within  the  shelter  of  the  cabin. 

Tom  Bayne,  who  had  been  ruefully  patting  his  drip 
ping  garments,  turned  to  Miss  Lawrence.  "  What 
wouldn't  Aunt  Betty  give  to  see  me  now?  "  he  inquired 
whimsically. 

"  I  think,"  replied  she  with  a  smile,  "  that  Aunt 
Betty  would  be  so  satisfied  with  your  appearance  that 
she  would  forgive  us  all  for  having  gone  out." 

This  remark  was  greeted  with  a  burst  of  laughter, 
and  Carey,  suddenly  catching  sight  of  Aline,  who  had 
withdrawn  shyly  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  went  over 
to  her. 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  excuse  this  invasion  of  your 
home,"  said  he.  "  I  have  been  out  in  the  field  with 
some  friends,  the  rain  caught  us,  and  c'est  tout,"  he 
finished,  waving  his  hand  about  him. 

"  You  and  your  friends  are  very  welcome,  M*sieu" 
answered  the  girl  blushing. 

"  Oh,  Aline!  "  cried  Marjorie,  who  had  caught  sight 
of  the  spinning  wheel.  "Is  that  yours?  Can  you 
spin?" 

230 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

"  Yes,  Miss  Marjorie,"  replied  the  girl.  "  Would 
you  care  to  see  me  do  it?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  Marjorie.  "  It  would  be  such 
fun  to  watch  you." 

Obediently  Aline  took  her  place  at  the  wheel  and 
spun  out  the  long,  yellow  thread,  while  the  others, 
crowded  about  her,  watched  her  with  breathless 
interest. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful!  "  said  Marjorie. 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  keeps  from  breaking  it," 
exclaimed  Tom  Bayne. 

"  It  is  a  perfect  picture,"  cried  Miss  Lawrence. 

Carey  said  never  a  word.  His  eyes  were  upon  Miss 
Lawrence,  and  he  thought  her  the  most  beautiful  crea 
ture  in  the  world.  He  felt  that  could  he  but  call  this 
lovely  girl  his  own  his  happiness  would  be  complete. 

Again  and  again  he  asked  himself  could  he  aspire  to 
such  joy  as  this.  Again  and  again  he  told  himself  that 
such  happiness  could  never  be  his. 

And  so  he  gazed  at  Miss  Lawrence  in  silent  admira 
tion,  and  his  heart  was  filled  now  with  happiness,  now 
with  pain;  now  with  hope,  now  with  despair;  now  with 
joy,  now  with  sadness;  and  all  because,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  Carey  Gordon  was  in  love. 

"  Carey  tells  me  that  you  make  the  very  best  coffee 
in  the  world,"  said  Marjorie. 

"  M'sieu  is  very  kind  to  say  so,"  replied  the  girl. 

At  the  mention  of  his  name  Carey  came  suddenly 
back  from  the  paradise  of  his  dreams,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  party  being  now  turned  upon  him,  he  addressed 
Aline  in  the  greatest  confusion,  his  face  a  fiery  red. 

231 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  It  is  not  kind  of  me  at  all  to  say  so,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  The  coffee  is  the  best  in  the  world,  and  if  I  had  some 
here  I  could  show  you." 

"If  you  would  care  for  it,  M'sieu,  I  could  make  you 
some  now,  while  you  are  waiting  for  the  rain  to  cease," 
said  the  girl,  stopping  her  spinning.  "  It  will  take  but 
a  few  moments,  and  Jean  can  help  me." 

Rising,  she  went  out  to  the  little  kitchen  at  the  back 
of  the  cabin,  while  Le  Bossu  left  his  place  in  the  corner 
from  which  he  had  silently  watched  the  visitors,  and 
followed  closely  after  her. 

"  She  is  indeed  a  very  pretty  and  a  very  nice  girl," 
said  Miss  Lawrence  as  the  door  closed  behind  Le 
Bossu.  "  And  isn't  that  a  funny  little  man  who  fol 
lows  her  about  so  quietly?  " 

"  That,"  replied  Carey,  "  is  Jean  Le  Bossu.  This 
girl  Aline  is  the  one  thing  in  the  world  he  cares  for. 
He  is  a  curious  little  man,  simple  as  a  child,  and  yet 
he  knows  and  can  tell  you  more  about  the  woods  and 
what  is  in  them  than  any  one  in  all  this  country." 

"  And  I  suppose  that  this  pretty  girl  has  a  great 
many  beaux  who  come  to  see  her  here  and  crowd  this 
little  cabin,"  said  Miss  Lawrence,  looking  about  the 
neatly  kept  room  with  a  smile. 

"  No,"  answered  Carey.  "  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
she  has  not.  She  leaves  this  cabin  very  seldom,  and 
there  are  few  that  know  her.  In  the  woods  she  saw 
nobody  but  Le  Bossu  and  a  hunter  who  they  say  is  to 
marry  her.  All  this  was  told  me  by  her  uncle,  for  she 
has  been  here  only  a  week,  you  know." 

"  I'll  declare,"  said  Tom,  pressing  his  face  against 

232 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

the  glass  of  the  window.  "  Here's  some  one  coming  up 
the  road  in  all  this  rain." 

"  And  I'll  declare,"  said  Carey,  "  if  here  isn't  Aline 
already  with  the  coffee." 

As  he  spoke  the  girl  cam?  into  the  room  carrying  a 
small  tin  waiter  in  her  hand.  Oh  the  waiter  stood  four 
little  white  cups  in  a  circle,  and  in  the  center  of  the 
circle  the  coffeepot,  hot  and  steaming,  filled  the  room 
with  its  sharp,  aromatic  odor.  Behind  Aline  came  Le 
Bossu,  carefully  carrying  the  white  china  sugar  bowl, 
into  which  he  had  stuck  the  four  tin  spoons  in  a  glitter 
ing  ring. 

The  girl  came  to  Carey,  but  he  smiled  and  shook 
his  head.  "  Miss  Lawrence  first,"  said  he.  "  She  is 
my  guest." 

And  so  Aline  went  on  to  Miss  Lawrence,  and  taking 
one  of  the  little  cups  from  oft  the  waiter  she  held  it 
out  to  her. 

Miss  Lawrence  reached  forth  her  hand  to  take  it. 

Suddenly  the  girl  gave  a  cry,  and  dropped  the  cup, 
which  broke  into  pieces,  splashing  the  floor  with  its 
little  pool  of  coffee. 

Carey  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Why,  Aline,  what  is 
it?  "he  cried. 

The  girl  stood  with  her  hand  pressed  tightly  to  her 
side,  her  face  flushed,  her  breath  coming  quick  and 
short.  "  It  is  nothing,  M'sieu,"  she  gasped.  "  It  is 
nothing.  It  is — it  is — Numa  coming  up  the  road," 
cried  she,  looking  suddenly  out  of  the  window. 

Carey  took  his  seat  again.  "  And  does  it  always 
affect  you  that  way  when  Numa  comes?  "  he  asked. 

233 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  girl,  who  was  upon  her  knees  picking  up  the 
broken  china,  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  M'sieu"  said 
she.  "  It  must  be  that  I  am  not  well  to-day.  If  Jean 
will  but  bring  me  another  cup  I  will  pass  the  coffee 
before  it  grows  too  cold." 

Le  Bossu  set  down  his  sugar  bowl  and  crept  out  to 
the  kitchen,  his  white  face  wrinkled  with  bewilderment. 
"  She  said  it  was  Numa,  but  it  was  not,"  mumbled  the 
little  man  shaking  his  head.  "  She  fooled  them  all, 
but  she  cannot  fool  Jean." 

And  so  the  four  visitors  sat  in  the  cabin  and  drank 
their  coffee,  declaring  that  never  in  their  lives  had  they 
tasted  better.  And  so  Aline  stood  and  watched  them, 
her  eyes  ever  upon  Miss  Lawrence,  while  Le  Bossu 
sat  silent  in  his  corner,  his  gaze  never  wavering  from 
the  girl  before  him. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  noise  outside,  the  door  was 
flung  hastily  open,  and  those  in  the  room,  turning 
quickly  to  see  the  intruder,  beheld  a  man  standing  in  the 
rain. 

H*e  was  a  tall  man,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  worn, 
yellow  oilskins,  and  he  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  door 
way  gazing  into  the  room  as  though  to  make  sure  of 
those  who  were  within  before  entering.  Apparently 
satisfied  with  his  inspection  he  stepped  over  the  thresh 
old  where,  quickly  removing  his  oilskins,  he  presently 
emerged  in  all  the  poor  vulgarity  of  cheap  and  flashy 
clothing. 

While  he  had  stood  in  the  rain  outside,  his  brown, 
handsome  face  enclosed  in  the  cap  of  oilskin,  his  tall, 
graceful  figure  outlined  against  the  wet,  gleaming  coat 

234 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

about  him,  he  had  presented  a  picture  of  wild  and  reck 
less  manhood  very  good  to  look  upon.  But  as  he  stood 
now  within  the  room,  clad  in  all  the  squalid  ugliness  of 
his  shoddy  garments,  a  horrid  look  upon  his  simpering 
face,  half-smile,  half-sneer;  from  the  top  of  his  greased 
and  oily  head  to  the  tip  of  his  pointed  yellow  shoes, 
from  the  dull  stone  in  his  gaudy  necktie  to  the  tar 
nished  ring  upon  his  finger,  he  presented  a  picture  of 
mean,  cheap  vulgarity  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Carey  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence  which  fol 
lowed  his  entrance.  "  Why,  if  it  isn't  the  hunter,"  he 
cried,  laughing  at  the  ludicrous  appearance  of  the  man 
before  him.  u  Isn't  he  fine,  though.  What  have  you 
killed  lately,  Mr.  Hunter,  to  have  given  you  such  beau 
tiful  garments?  " 

Numa  glared  at  the  speaker  angrily.  "  I  have  not 
killed  anything  yet,"  said  he  in  a  menacing  tone. 

The  girl  came  hastily  forward.  "  My  uncle  is  not 
here,  Numa.  He  is  in  Landry,"  said  she. 

Numa  laughed  contemptuously.  "  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  have  put  on  these  clothes  to  see  your  uncle, 
Aline?"  he  asked.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  I  rode  in 
all  that  rain  from  Landry  just  to  see  him?  " 

To  this  the  girl  made  no  direct  reply,  but  looked 
about  her  uneasily. 

"  It  is  strange  that  you  have  not  seen  him  to-day," 
she  ventured. 

Numa  laughed.  "  I  have  been  all  day  at  Old  Vic 
tor's,"  said  he  meaningly.  "  Jeanne  is  a  fine  girl." 

"  I  say  he  does,  Tom,  he  looks  just  like  a  gypsy," 
came  audibly  from  the  window  in  the  voice  of  Marjorie. 

235 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Numa  turned  about  quickly.  "  I  am  no  gypsy.  I 
am  Spanish,"  said  he. 

Miss  Lawrence  was  immediately  interested.  "  But 
you  can  tell  fortunes,  can't  you?  "  she  asked. 

Numa  shook  his  head.  Miss  Lawrence  held  out  her 
hand.  "  Please,"  said  she.  "  It's  such  fun." 

Numa  looked  at  the  outstretched  hand  scornfully. 
"  I  do  not — "  he  began  and  stopped  suddenly,  with  a 
little  gasp  of  astonishment. 

Miss  Lawrence  withdrew  her  hand  instantly. 

"  I  do  not  mind  telling  fortunes  sometimes,"  con 
tinued  Numa  smoothly,  "  but  when  I  have  told  one,  I 
can  tell  no  more  that  day.  I  will  tell  your  fortune, 
Mademoiselle,  if  you  wish  me  to,  but  I  will  have  to  tell 
it  in  French." 

Miss  Lawrence  held  out  her  hand  again.  "  That  is 
right,"  said  she.  "  I  knew  all  the  time  that  you  could 
do  it.  I  also  understand  French  perfectly,  which  makes 
everything  exactly  right." 

Numa  took  the  extended  hand,  and  turning  it  palm 
downwards,  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment. 

"  Why,  that  isn't  the  way  to  tell  fortunes,"  cried 
Miss  Lawrence.  "  Are  you  trying  to  read  the  back  of 
my  hand?  " 

Numa  turned  the  hand  palm  upward,  and  examined 
it  closely,  tracing  the  lines  with  his  long,  brown  fore 
finger. 

"  There  are  different  ways  of  telling  a  fortune,"  said 
he.  "  Yours  is  a  good  one."  And  then  in  a  singsong 
voice  he  began  to  tell  the  fortune,  speaking  the  words 
mechanically,  with  many  pauses,  as  though  reciting 

236 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

some  lesson  which  he  had  learned  long  ago  and  had 
almost  forgotten. 

"  You  will  marry  young  and  die  old.  You  will 
travel  much  and  see  more.  Your  riches  will  only  be 
exceeded  by  your  happiness.  Your  desires  will  be  grati 
fied  only  when  they  will  be  of  benefit  to  you.  Your 
beauty  will  fade  only  with  your  life  and — "  He  paused 
for  a  moment  and  looked  at  Miss  Lawrence  signifi 
cantly.  "  Should  you  live  for  a  thousand  years  you  will 
never  puzzle  man  as  you  have  puzzled  him  to-day." 

He  finished,  released  the  hand  and  smiled. 

"  But  the  last  thing  that  you  said,  all  that  about 
4  puzzling  man/  What  do  you  mean  by  it?"  ques 
tioned  Miss  Lawrence. 

Numa  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  the  fortune, 
Mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "  I  cannot  explain  it." 

"  And  I  owe  you — "  began  Miss  Lawrence. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Numa.  u  I  have  been  well  paid 
for  telling  your  fortune." 

"  You  are  a  strange  man,"  said  Miss  Lawrence, 
"  and  a  stranger  fortune  teller.  You  are  the  first  one 
that  I  have  ever  heard  of  that  didn't  ask  for  money." 

Numa  bowed  low.  "  Yours  is  the  first  fortune  that 
I  have  ever  told,  Mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "  The  next 
time  I  shall  ask  enough  for  both  fortunes." 

"  Hello,"  cried  Tom  Bayne  from  the  door.  "  It 
has  stopped  raining." 

"  Then  we  must  go,"  said  Marjorie  rising.  "  We 
have  barely  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,  Aline,  for  the  coffee  and  the  shelter." 

"  And  I  am  also,"  said  Miss  Lawrence,  pausing  in 

237 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  doorway.  "  Some  day,  if  you  will  let  me,  I  am 
coming  back  to  see  you,  and  perhaps  I  may  learn  what 
your  fortune  teller  means  by  his  talk  of  my  puzzling 
hand." 

The  little  party  went  up  the  muddy  road  very  slowly, 
splashing  their  way  through  the  many  puddles  that  had 
formed  in  the  low  places. 

For  a  while  Miss  Lawrence  rode  along  in  silence, 
and  then  suddenly  stopping  her  horse  she  held  out  her 
hand  to  Carey,  who  rode  beside  her. 

"  Do  you  see  anything  curious  about  my  hand?  "  she 
asked. 

Carey  took  it,  his  heart  beating  high.  He  felt  that 
he  would  be  contented  to  hold  this  hand  forever.  He 
thought  that  he  had  never  seen  so  beautiful  a  hand 
before. 

"  I  can  see  nothing  peculiar,"  said  he,  "  except  that 
it  is  the  most " 

Miss  Lawrence  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,"  she 
cried.  "  I  do  not  mean  that.  Do  you  remember  how 
the  girl  cried  out,  and  dropped  the  cup  when  I  reached 
for  it?  Do  you  remember  how  the  hunter  refused  to 
tell  my  fortune?  How  he  consented  when  he  had  seen 
my  hand?  What  he  said  about  my  puzzling  man?  He 
was  the  man  that  I  puzzled,  and  my  hand  was 
what  puzzled  him.  What  made  the  girl  cry  out, 
and  why?" 

Carey  looked  perplexed.  "  What  you  say  is  right," 
answered  he.  "  It  was  your  hand.  And  the  ring  that 
you  wear.  Perhaps " 

Miss  Lawrence  took  it  off  and  handed  it  to  him. 

238 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

x 

"  It  is  a  family  ring,"  said  she.  "  I  cannot  see  how 
it  could  possibly  interest  them." 

Carey  examined  the  ring  closely.  It  was  a  chased 
band  of  gold,  set  with  a  reddish-brown  stone.  The 
stone  was  mottled  with  white,  and  upon  it  was  cut  a 
crest. 

He  handed  the  ring  to  Miss  Lawrence.  "  It  cannot 
be  this,"  said  he.  "  It  is  very  strange." 

"  There  is  another  ring,  the  exact  counterpart  of  this 
one,"  said  Miss  Lawrence,  u  and  it  belonged  to  my 
uncle  who  is  dead.  He  married  beneath  him  and 
my  grandfather  disowned  him.  I  have  often  heard  my 
father  speak  of  it.  When  my  uncle  died  he  left  a  child, 
a  girl,  and  in  his  will  my  father  has  left  this  girl  the 
property  that  should  have  been  her  father's.  The  girl 
has  never  been  heard  of.  We  have  tried  in  every  way 
to  find  her,  but  with  no  success,  and  I  am  afraid  that 
she  too  is  dead.  It  could  not  be  that  this  girl  Aline?  " 
She  paused  excitedly. 

Carey  shook  his  head.  "  It  could  not  be,"  answered 
he.  "  She  has  lived  all  her  life  with  the  old  man  in 
the  Grand  Woods." 

Again  they  moved  on  in  silence,  while  far  up  the 
road  went  Marjorie  and  Tom  Bayne  unconscious  of 
their  absence. 

Suddenly  they  came  to  a  little  rise  in  the  land,  and 
Carey  stopping  his  horse  pointed  before  him.  "  Isn't  it 
beautiful?  "  he  asked. 

In  the  west  the  dark  clouds  had  broken  and  the  sun 
was  setting  in  a  flood  of  fire  that  tinged  the  darkened 
heavens  with  a  golden  shadow.  Before  them  lay  the 

239 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

rain-soaked  fields,  their  tiny  pools  glowing  in  the  fire 
of  the  sunset.  The  air  was  fresh  and  sweet,  redolent 
with  the  odor  of  the  rich,  wet  earth. 

On  every  plant  and  tiny  blade  of  grass  the  raindrops 
shone  and  sparkled.  The  land  from  its  recent  bath  lay 
fresh  and  sweet  and  clean  in  the  quiet  of  the  evening. 

Miss  Lawrence  turned  to  Carey  and  pointed  at  the 
scene  before  her.  "Aren't  you  proud?"  she  asked. 
'  You  are  monarch  of  all  you  survey." 

For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her  and  in  his  eyes  there 
was  a  great  longing. 

"  I  only  wish  that  I  were,"  said  he. 


240 


CHAPTER    XII 

NUMA   MAKING   ONE    CONQUEST    FAILS   TO   MAKE 
ANOTHER 

IT  was  Sunday  at  Landry,  and  on  the  broad,  dusty 
street   the   stores   stood   closed   and   silent.      The 
houses  were  deserted  also,   for  the  last  bell  had 
rung  from  the  square,  wooden  tower  of  the  church, 
and  the  people  of  the  town,  with  those  of  the  surround 
ing  country,  now  knelt  within  the  sacred  building  at 
mass. 

From  one  end  of  the  little  town  to  the  other  the 
buildings  were  deserted  save  one — the  drug  store  of 
Doctor  Lemaire.  It  was  a  long,  barn-like  structure  with 
a  deep  porch  in  front,  and  on  this  porch  there  now  sat, 
comfortably  established  in  the  very  chair  of  the  old 
doctor  himself,  the  one  inharmonious  figure  in  the  quiet 
of  the  Sabbath  morning — Jean  Marie  Lacour,  the  clerk 
of  the  drug  store. 

He  was  a  young  man,  short  of  stature  and  ungrace 
ful  of  figure,  with  a  brown,  freckled  face,  saved  only 
from  being  commonplace  by  its  great  weakness.  He 
was  dressed  in  the  newest  and  flashiest  of  suits  and  the 
brightest  of  patent-leather  shoes,  while  upon  his  short 
and  closely  curling  hair  he  wore  a  small  gray  hat,  orna 
mented  with  a  very  blue  ribbon. 

241 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Lying  back  in  the  skin-covered  chair,  his  feet  ele 
vated  to  the  narrow  railing  of  the  porch,  the  clerk  con 
templated  his  brightly  shining  shoes  with  a  smile  of 
gratified  vanity,  and  then  looking  beyond  them  to  the 
great  yellow  church  at  the  end  of  the  street  he  shook 
his  head  with  an  expression  of  violent  indignation. 
Jean  Marie  Lacour  was  angry. 

For  many  months  he  had  saved  his  paltry  wages  that 
he  might  emerge  upon  some  happy  Sunday  in  the  gor 
geous  raiment  which  now  clothed  him.  For  many 
months  he  had  dreamed  of  entering  the  church  in  the 
dazzling  splendor  of  his  new  garments,  of  the  looks  of 
admiration  from  the  women,  of  the  looks  of  envy  from 
the  men. 

Above  all  he  had  dreamed  of  the  admiring  glances 
of  one  in  all  that  great  congregation,  of  one  who  to 
him  meant  everything,  of  one  whose  dark  and  regal 
beauty  had  set  his  heart  aflame,  of  Jeanne,  the  daughter 
of  Old  Victor. 

And  now  the  long-hoped-for  Sunday  had  arrived; 
he  had  dressed  himself  carefully,  with  many  a  lingering 
glance  in  his  broken  glass;  he  had  been  halfway  down 
the  street  on  his  journey  to  the  house  of  the  fair  Jeanne 
when  Doctor  Lemaire,  coming  out  upon  the  porch  of 
his  store,  had  called  to  him.  He  had  come  back  sul 
lenly  enough,  and  the  old  doctor,  smiling  compassion 
ately,  had  said:  "  I  am  sorry,  Lacour,  but  you  cannot 
go  to  church  this  morning.  There  are  some  people 
from  the  prairie  who  will  ride  in  for  medicine,  and  you 
must  give  it  to  them." 

So  therefore  it  was  that  Jean  Marie  Lacour  was 

242 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

angry,  and  therefore  it  was  that  his  indignation  became 
greater  every  time  he  gazed  at  the  church  before  him, 
in  which  at  that  moment  knelt  his  beautiful  Jeanne. 

Suddenly  there  came  to  him  the  muffled  sound  of  the 
organ,  telling  that  the  mass  was  over  and  that  in  a 
moment  the  deserted  street  would  be  thronged  with  a 
bustling  crowd  of  home-going  people.  Rising  from 
his  comfortable  seat  the  clerk  stretched  himself  lazily, 
and  after  carefully  arranging  the  folds  of  his  flaming 
cravat,  he  seated  himself  in  one  of  the  straight  hide- 
bottomed  chairs  that  were  scattered  about  him,  for  the 
throne  of  the  old  doctor  was  sacred. 

And  now  the  broad  street  was  crowded  with  the 
hurrying  throng  of  worshipers,  while  the  dust  from 
many  vehicles  rose  in  clouds,  shutting  out  the  scene  from 
the  watchful  eyes  of  the  clerk,  who,  sneezing  and  beat 
ing  at  the  air  about  him,  became  angrier  than  ever. 

"  And  I  shall  see  Jeanne  pass  by  in  a  moment,"  said 
he  savagely,  "  and  I  will  not  be  able  to  take  her  to 
her  home,  because  of  those  cursed  people  from  the 
prairie." 

Jean  Marie  Lacour  was  indeed  in  a  bad  humor. 

Rising  to  his  feet  with  a  cry  he  gazed  eagerly 
through  the  billowy  clouds  of  dust.  Far  down  the 
street  he  could  see  moving  slowly  through  the  crowd 
upon  the  sidewalk  a  man  and  a  woman.  The  man  was 
tall  and  well-made  and  carried  himself  with  a  swagger. 
The  woman  was  tall  also,  with  the  proud,  majestic 
bearing  of  a  queen.  Her  eyes  were  black  and  her 
mouth,  though  full  and  red,  had  about  it  the  hard, 
straight  lines  of  cruelty. 

243 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  clerk  gazed  at  the  pair  in  astonishment  until 
they  came  opposite  the  store,  when  he  ran  down  the 
steps  and  accosted  them. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  could  not  take  you  to  mass  this 
morning,  Jeanne,''  he  cried.  "  I  had  important  busi 
ness  and  could  not  leave  the  store." 

The  woman  smiled.  "  It  is  just  as  well,"  replied 
she.  "  I  had  promised  to  go  with  Numa  to-day." 

Jean  Marie  Lacour  opened  his  eyes  very  wide. 
Numa  gazed  at  him  with  a  sneering  smile. 

"And  this  evening?"  asked  the  clerk.  "You  will 
walk  with  me  then?  " 

Jeanne  tossed  her  head.  "  I  shall  drive  this  evening 
with  Numa,"  said  she  as  she  moved  away. 

The  clerk  gazed  after  them  with  a  dazed  expression, 
passing  his  hand  before  his  eyes  as  though  he  expected 
to  awaken  from  a  very  unpleasant  dream.  Could  it 
be  possible,  he  asked  himself,  that  he,  Jean  Marie 
Lacour,  the  clerk  of  the  drug  store  at  Landry,  the  one 
who  had  been  to  school  in  the  city  for  a  whole  year, 
was  to  be  cast  aside  for  a  vagabond  and  a  drunkard 
such  as  Numa  Le  Blanc?  It  was  incredible. 

He  thought  of  how  magnanimous  he  had  felt  when 
he  had  given  his  love  to  the  fickle  Jeanne.  He  thought 
of  the  great  honor  he  had  imagined  she  felt  at  the 
bestowal  of  his  affections  upon  such  a  poor  ignorant 
girl.  And  now  she  had  jilted  him  with  never  a  look 
at  the  beautiful  clothes  that  he  had  bought  to  please 
her.  Above  all  he  was  doubly  exasperated  by  the 
knowledge  that  never  in  his  life  before  had  he  loved  the 
heartless  Jeanne  as  he  loved  her  now,  at  the  moment 

244 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

of  her  perfidy.     Jean  Marie  Lacour  was  in  a  state  of 
furious  amazement. 

He  did  not  see  the  stream  of  people  that  passed  him, 
he  did  not  speak  to  those  that  greeted  him  as  they  went 
by,  he  was  conscious  of  nothing  until  some  one  clapped 
him  upon  the  back  with  a  heavy  hand.  Turning  he 
confronted  the  old  doctor  and  Father  Bertrand,  who 
were  surveying  him  critically. 

"  Have  you  gone  to  sleep  standing  up,  Lacour?  " 
began  Doctor  Lemaire,  when  catching  sight  of  the 
clerk's  face  he  cried,  "  Why,  what  is  the  matter?  Are 
you  sick?  " 

"  No,"  replied  he  in  a  sulky  voice.  "  There  is  noth 
ing  the  matter  with  me.  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

But  the  old  doctor  knew  that  there  was  something 
the  matter,  and  after  surveying  the  gaudy  appearance 
of  the  clerk  for  a  moment  he  looked  about  him  for  the 
cause  of  his  discomfort.  Suddenly  he  saw  far  up  the 
street  a  man  and  a  woman  walking.  The  woman 
was  very  tall  and  straight,  and  there  was  no  mistaking 
her. 

Doctor  Lemaire  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  point 
ing  first  at  the  angry  clerk  and  then  at  the  distant  cou 
ple,  exclaimed,  "  Look,  mon  Pere,  and  see  true  jeal 
ousy  in  all  its  wickedness.  Observe  what  it  has  done 
to  poor  Lacour.  You  should  make  a  wonderful  sermon 
out  of  what  you  have  seen  to-day." 

Father  Bertrand  shook  his  head  at  the  clerk.  "  You 
should  not  become  angry,  Lacour,"  said  he.  "  Cannot 
Jeanne  walk  with  other  people  besides  yourself?  " 

Jean  Marie  Lacour  smiled  with  assumed  indifference. 

245 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  She  may  walk  with  whom  she  pleases,"  said  he.  "  I 
am  done  with  her.  Never  again  will  I  trust  a  woman. 
Should  she  ask  me  upon  her  knees  to  forgive  her  I 
would  tell  her  no." 

"  You  need  not  worry  about  that,  Lacour,"  inter 
rupted  the  old  doctor.  "  She  will  not  do  so." 

"  And  when  I  meet  Numa,"  continued  the  clerk,  his 
voice  rising,  "  I  will " 

But  at  this  moment  the  arrival  of  Monsieur  Landry 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Parker  caused  him  to  cease  speak 
ing  and  retire  hurriedly  into  the  store,  leaving  the  fate 
of  the  treacherous  Numa  forever  undecided. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  that  boy?"  asked 
Mr.  Parker,  gazing  wonderingly  at  the  retreating 
clerk.  "What's  he  shouting  about?" 

Dr.  Lemaire  shrugged  his  shoulders.  u  He  is  young, 
in  love,  and  a  fool,"  said  he.  "  But  come  up  and 
sit  down.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have  seen 
you." 

Mr.  Parker,  who  had  been  greeted  warmly  by  the 
priest,  ascended  the  steps  and  was  soon  seated  with  the 
rest  of  the  party  upon  the  long,  roomy  porch  of 
the  drug  store.  He  was  very  much  liked  by  the  people 
at  Landry,  and  especially  by  the  old  doctor,  but  he  was 
always  spoken  of  as  the  "  Stranger,"  and  he  knew  that 
the  title  would  cling  to  him  forever. 

"And  how  are  the  cantaloupes  coming  on?"  ques 
tioned  Father  Bertrand. 

"  Fine,"  replied  Mr.  Parker.  "  All  up  and  doing 
well." 

"  Monsieur  Parker  has  something  more  important 

246 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

than  cantaloupes  to  tell  you  of,"  said  Monsieur  Landry 
mysteriously. 

"Indeed?"  cried  the  priest  and  Dr.  Lemaire 
together. 

Monsieur  Landry  nodded  his  head.  Mr.  Parker 
smiled  rather  sheepishly.  "  Yes,"  stammered  he,  u  I'm 
— I'm — thinking  of  getting  married." 

"  To  whom?"  asked  the  priest  and  Dr.  Lemaire 
excitedly. 

"  That's  just  what  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr. 
Parker. 

The  two  questioners  gazed  at  him  open-mouthed  in 
their  astonishment. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  old  doctor  finally,  in  a  hurt  tone. 
"  It  is  a  joke.  I  am  very  stupid." 

"  No,  it  isn't  a  joke,"  cried  Mr.  Parker  indignantly. 
"  Getting  married  is  far  too  serious  a  thing  to  joke 
about — at  least  that's  the  way  it  looks  to  me." 

"  Then,  may  I  ask,"  inquired  Dr.  Lemaire,  "  how  it 
is  that  you  are  going  to  get  married  when  you  do  not 
know  whom  you  are  going  to  get  married  to?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  it's  this  way,"  replied  Mr.  Parker. 
"  I'm  beginning  to  get  awfully  lonesome  at  my  place, 
and  it  won't  be  long  before  I'll  begin  to  get  old.  I 
want  some  one  to  take  care  of  me,  and  I  don't  much 
care  who  it  is,  if  she's  good-looking  and  hasn't  a  bad 
temper.  I  can  love  any  woman  who  meets  those  require 
ments,  and  as  soon  as  I  meet  one  that  does  and  she's 
satisfactory  to  a  friend  of  mine,  I'm  going  to  marry 
her.  That  is,  if  she'll  have  me,  of  course." 

Dr.  Lemaire  nodded,  and  his  face,  which  had  been 

247 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

clouded  by  a  frown,  was  now  smiling.  "  You  have 
a  very  peculiar  way  of  getting  a  wife,"  said  he,  "  but 
I  should  think  that  it  will  do  just  as  well  as  any  other. 
Marriage,  as  you  have  said,  is  no  joke.  People  are 
finding  that  out  every  minute  of  the  day.  I  found  it 
out  before  I  had  been  married  a  year,  but  I  am  happy 
to  say  that,  unlike  a  great  many  other  people,  I  did 
not  wish  that  I  had  found  it  out  before  I  had  ever  mar 
ried."  And  having  paid  this  tribute  to  his  dead  wife, 
the  old  doctor  laid  back  in  his  chair  and  eyed  Mr. 
Parker  keenly. 

"  And  may  I  ask,"  inquired  Father  Bertrand, 
"  where  you  are  going  to  look  for  this  beautiful,  good- 
tempered  girl  that  you  wish  to  marry?  " 

Mr.  Parker  waved  his  arm  about  him.  "  Here  in 
Landry,  in  the  country,  everywhere,"  replied  he. 

"  And  he  wishes  us  to  help  him  find  her,"  announced 
Monsieur  Landry. 

The  priest  and  Dr.  Lemaire  looked  at  Mr.  Parker 
inquiringly. 

Mr.  Parker  nodded  his  head.  "  Yes,"  said  he. 
"  That  is  just  what  I  want  you  to  do,  if  you  will  be  so 
kind.  You  both  know  most  of  the  girls  about 
here,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  could  easily  find  the  one 
I  want." 

"  And  supposing  we  were  to  find  a  girl  for  you,  and 
after  you  had  married  her  you  found  that  we  had 
made  a  mistake.  What  would  you  do  then?"  asked 
Dr.  Lemaire. 

Mr.  Parker's  face  fell  and  he  scratched  his  head 
thoughtfully  for  a  moment. 

248 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

"  I'll  run  the  risk,"  said  he  decisively,  "  and  you  can 
rest  assured  that  I  won't  blame  you,  whatever  happens. 
You  see,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  been  thinking  of  this 
matter  for  some  time,  and  I  came  over  to  church  to-day 
to  sort  of  look  around,  you  know." 

"  And  did  you  see  any  one  that  interested  you?" 
asked  Father  Bertrand. 

"  I  saw  one  girl  who  was  very  pretty,"  replied  Mr. 
Parker,  "  but  Mr.  Landry  told  me  that  her  temper — " 
He  hesitated  for  a  word. 

"  He  is  speaking  of  Old  Victor's  Jeanne,"  explained 
Monsieur  Landry. 

Father  Bertrand  and  Dr.  Lemaire  both  said,  "  Ah!  " 
significantly. 

"  Of  course,  she  would  not  do,"  finished  Monsieur 
Landry. 

"  Hardly,"  said  the  old  doctor  drily. 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,  but  I  am  afraid  that  she  has  a 
very  violent  temper,"  added  Father  Bertrand,  and  as 
he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  chair  and  started  down  the 
steps. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  that  old  man  and  his  niece," 
said  he  in  explanation  of  his  departure. 

He  had  hardly  taken  his  seat  upon  his  return  when 
Mr.  Parker  questioned  him  excitedly. 

"  I  say,  who  is  that  girl?  "  he  asked. 
'  That,"  answered  the  priest,  "  is  Aline  Telesse.     I 
have  just  been  speaking  to  her  about  making  her  first 


communion." 


"  She    is    certainly    a    beauty,"    cried    Mr.    Parker 
enthusiastically. 

249 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  She  is  very  pretty,"  assented  Father  Bertrand. 

"  And  her  temper?  "  inquired  Mr.  Parker. 

"  She  has  no  temper,"  replied  the  priest.  "  She  is 
sweet  and  gentle  always." 

"  You  have  found  your  girl,"  said  Monsieur  Landry, 
beaming. 

"  And  now  you  have  got  to  win  her,"  added  the  old 
doctor  laughing. 

Mr.  Parker  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  he  gazed  at 
the  retreating  figure  of  the  girl.  "  Where  does  she 
live?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  Father  Bertrand. 

"  On  Belrive  plantation,"  replied  the  priest. 

Mr.  Parker  arose  from  his  chair,  his  face  wreathed  in 
smiles,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Father  Bertrand.  "  I 
cannot  begin  to  thank  you,"  said  he.  "  If  you  had 
looked  all  over  the  world,  you  could  not  have  found  a 
girl  more  suitable.  So  she  lives  on  Belrive  plantation, 
does  she?  You  remember  my  saying  that  the  girl  must 
be  satisfactory  to  a  certain  friend  of  mine,  eh?  Well, 
that  friend  is  Miss  Betty  Peters,  and  as  this  girl  lives 
at  Belrive  none  can  know  her  better  than  she  does. 
So  everything  is  perfect,  and  I  am  going  to  get  on  my 
horse  right  now  and  ride  over  to  see  Miss  Betty.  A 
man  can't  be  too  quick  about  a  thing  of  this  sort.  Some 
other  fellow  is  liable  to  get  ahead  of  him  and  cut  him 


out." 


"  You  are  right,"  declared  the  old  doctor  as  he  shook 
his  hand.     "  You  cannot  set  about  a  thing  of  this  sort 


too  soon." 


"  I  wish  you  all  success,"  cried  Father  Bertrand. 
"  And  nothing  but   failure   for   the   other   fellow," 

250 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

added  Monsieur  Landry  as  Mr.  Parker  started  down 
the  steps. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Parker  from  the  sidewalk, 
"  all  of  what  I  have  said  is  between  ourselves?  " 

"  Of  course,"  assented  the  three  men  upon  the  porch, 
as  Mr.  Parker  strode  hurriedly  down  the  street  in  quest 
of  his  horse. 

Meanwhile,  inside  the  drug  store,  Jean  Marie 
Lacour,  having  divested  himself  of  his  many-colored 
garments,  was  seated  upon  a  high  stool  back  of  the 
prescription  counter,  cursing  his  lucky  rival,  while 
the  subject  of  his  maledictions,  walking  slowly  down  the 
broad,  shady  street,  laughed  and  joked  in  the  best  of 
good  humors. 

"  That  boy  Lacour,"  said  he  to  Jeanne,  "  is  very 
angry  because  I  am  out  walking  with  you." 

Jeanne  tossed  her  head.  "  Let  him  be  angry,"  she 
replied.  "  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  be  none  the  worse 
for  it." 

"  Lacour  is  a  smart  boy.  He  is  almost  a  doctor.  He 
has  lived  in  the  city,"  began  Numa  insinuatingly. 

"  And  what  if  he  has?  "  replied  Jeanne.  "  There  is 
one  with  whom  I  would  rather  walk  than  Jean  Marie, 
even  though  he  has  not  been  to  the  city."  She  looked 
at  Numa  meaningly. 

Numa  smiled  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 
"  And  there  is  one,"  said  he,  "  who  would  rather  walk 
with  you  than  with  any  one  else  in  the  world.  There 
is  one  who  thinks  you  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  all 
this  country.  There  is  one  who  has  dreamed  of  you 
many  days." 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Jeanne  blushed  and  drew  away  from  him.  "  We  are 
on  the  street,  Numa,"  she  whispered.  "  All  can  see  us." 

Numa  cast  his  eyes  down.  "  Forgive  me,"  answered 
he.  "  When  I  am  with  you  I  forget  everything." 

And  so  he  went  on,  whispering  words  of  love  and 
devotion  into  the  eager  ear  of  the  stately  Jeanne,  while 
she  looked  up  into  his  handsome  face  and  thought  that 
never  did  woman  have  so  perfect  a  lover  as  he. 

Presently  they  came  to  the  house  of  Old  Victor,  and 
Numa,  pressing  the  girl's  hand,  threw  open  the  broken 
front  gate  with  a  flourish. 

"  Farewell  for  a  little  while,"  he  cried.  "  The  hours 
will  seem  like  days  until  I  am  back  again." 

Jeanne  looked  at  him  shyly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
blowing  him  a  kiss  with  her  fingertips  she  turned  and 
ran  swiftly  down  the  brick  walk  to  the  house. 

Numa  gazed  after  her,  an  ugly,  sinister  smile  upon 
his  face.  "  What  a  fool  you  are  that  you  cannot  tell 
love  from  mockery,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  You  are  a 
proud  girl,  Jeanne,  and  there  are  many  who  will  be  glad 
to  see  you  humbled." 

Turning  away  he  walked  down  the  street  until  he 
came  to  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town.  Here  in  a 
barren,  grass-grown  lot,  strewn  with  broken  glass  and 
rusty  cans,  there  stood  a  small  and  dilapidated  cabin. 

It  was  a  very  scarecrow  of  a  cabin,  with  its  one 
broken  window,  its  sagging  chimney  and  its  rotten  roof 
of  shingles,  through  whose  ragged  cracks  and  breaks 
the  rain  and  sunshine  made  their  way  into  the  single 
room  beneath. 

Kicking  open  the  door  Numa  entered  this  room  and 

252 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

flung  himself  upon  the  ragged,  dirty  bed  inside.  Save 
for  the  bed  and  a  broken  chair,  the  room  had  no 
furniture.  Above  the  fireplace  ran  a  narrow,  smoke- 
blackened  shelf  upon  which  straggled  a  long  row  of 
empty  bottles,  the  silent  reminders  of  many  a  drunken 
orgy. 

For  a  while  Numa  lay  across  the  bed,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  then,  hearing  a  noise  outside,  he  suddenly  sat  up 
right.  The  door  opened  very  quietly  and  a  white  face 
thrust  itself  inside  the  room. 

Numa  -threw  himself  across  the  bed  again  with  a 
grunt  of  satisfaction. 

"So  you  have  come  at  last,  Jean?"  said  he.  "It 
has  taken  you  a  long  time  to  get  here." 

The  little  man  came  into  the  room  and  seated  him 
self  upon  the  broken  chair.  "  I  walked  home  with 
Aline  from  church,"  replied  he.  "  It  is  a  long  ways." 

"  And  I  walked  home  with  Jeanne,"  said  Numa  with 
a  chuckle.  "  She  is  the  greatest  fool.  Ttold  her  that 
I  loved  her,  and  she  believed  me.  Why,  she  even  loves 
me  herself  in  this  short  time.  I  am  a  terrible  fellow 
with  the  women,  Jean."  He  laughed  uproariously. 

"  You  had  best  be  careful,  Numa,"  cautioned  the 
little  man  gravely. 

Numa  rose  up  and  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
eyeing  the  hunchback  with  a  look,  half  of  shame,  half 
of  amusement.  "What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"  Jeanne  has  a  bad  temper,"  answered  Le  Bossu. 
"  When  she  is  mad  she  is  crazy.  She  will  try  to  kill 
you,  Numa,  if  you  deceive  her." 

Numa  laughed  contemptuously.  "  I  am  willing  to 

253 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

take  my  chances  of  that,"  said  he.  "  When  I  told  you, 
before  we  came  to  Landry,  that  I  would  pretend  to  love 
some  girl  to  make  Aline  jealous,  I  had  then  made  up 
my  mind  who  that  girl  would  be.  One  day  when  I 
came  here  to  sell  my  birds  a  girl  laughed  at  me  because 
of  my  torn  clothes.  She  laughed  at  me  and  mocked 
me  because  I  was  poor,  because  I  was  ragged.  The  girl 
was  Old  Victor's  Jeanne.  When  I  came  to  Landry  in 
all  my  fine  clothes  she  did  not  remember  me,  she  did 
not  know  who  I  was,  but  I  remembered  her  and  I  picked 
her  out  for  the  girl  that  I  am  going  to  make  a  fool  of. 
For  every  laugh,  for  every  sneer  that  she  cast  at  me 
when  I  was  ragged,  tired  and  dirty,  I  am  going  to 
make  her  pay  double.  She  is  a  proud  girl,  Jean,  but 
I  am  going  to  humble  her.  She  has  had  many  lovers, 
and  she  has  treated  them  all  badly.  It  is  her  turn  now, 
and  a  hard  turn  I  am  going  to  make  it."  He  ceased 
speaking  and  began  to  roll  himself  a  cigarette. 

"  You  wish  to  speak  to  me  about  something  this 
morning,  I  suppose,"  said  Le  Bossu,  breaking  the 
silence  that  followed  Numa's  denunciation  of  the  proud 
Jeanne. 

Numa  puffed  his  cigarette  thoughtfully  for  a 
moment.  "  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Do  you  remember 
the  day  that  I  told  a  fortune  for  the  young  lady  at 
old  Telesse's  cabin?" 

Le  Bossu  nodded.  "  Yes,"  replied  he.  "  You  sur 
prised  me  very  much.  I  did  not  know  that  you  could 
tell  fortunes,  Numa." 

Numa  laughed.     "  I  cannot  tell  them,"  said  he. 

"  But  you  told  one  that  day,"  persisted  Le  Bossu. 

254 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

"  It  sounded  fine,  just  as  though  you  had  gotten  it  out 
of  a  book." 

"  That  is  just  where  I  did  get  it,"  replied  Numa. 
"  I  learned  it  long  ago,  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  have 
never  forgotten  it.  I  read  many  of  the  books  that  my 
father  had  with  him  in  the  woods.  Do  you  know  why 
I  told  that  fortune?  " 

Le  Bossu  shook  his  head. 

"  I  wished,"  said  Numa,  "  to  see  a  ring  that  the 
young  lady  had  upon  her  finger." 

"  I  see,"  cried  Le  Bossu.  "  And  that  was  the  reason 
why.  you  first  looked  at  the  back  of  her  hand." 

"  It  was,"  replied  Numa.  "  Her  ring  was  the  same 
as  the  one  that  Aline  wears  about  her  neck  upon  a  chain. 
Have  you  ever  seen  this  ring  of  Aline's?  " 

Le  Bossu  nodded. 

"  I  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  these  two  rings  being 
alike,"  continued  Numa,  "  but  of  one  thing  I  am  cer 
tain.  It  can  mean  no  good  for  me.  Therefore,  Jean, 
I  must  get  Aline's  ring  away  from  her.  How  I  am 
going  to  do  it  I  cannot  say.  What  I  wished  to  see  you 
about  this  morning  was  to  ask  you  to  help  me  get  it. 
Do  all  that  you  can  to  get  it,  Jean,  for  I  must  have  it." 

The  little  man  was  silent  for  a  while,  stroking  his 
chin  softly  with  his  long,  white  hand. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  see  this  ring  of  Aline's?  " 
he  asked  finally.  "  She  shows  it  to  no  one." 

"  I  crept  up  behind  her  when  she  was  looking  at  it 
alone  in  the  orchard,"  replied  Numa.  "  She  was  angry 
because  I  saw  it.  And  how  did  you  come  to  see  it, 
Jean?" 

255 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  She  showed  it  to  me  herself,"  replied  the  little 
man. 

"  And  did  she  tell  you  who  gave  it  to  her?  "  asked 
Numa  eagerly. 

Le  Bossu  nodded. 

"  Who  was  it,  Jean?  "  cried  Numa. 

"  That,"  replied  the  little  man,  "  I  cannot  tell  you. 
I  have  promised  her  that  I  will  tell  no  one." 

Numa  looked  surprised.  "  Come,  Jean,"  said  he  in 
a  wheedling  tone,  "  you  are  going  to  tell  me,  I  am 
sure." 

Le  Bossu  only  shook  his  head.  Again  Numa  asked 
him.  Again  Le  Bossu  refused. 

For  a  long  time  Numa  begged  and  pleaded,  using 
every  means  within  his  power  to  overcome  the  obstinacy 
of  the  little  man,  but  to  no  avail.  Finally  he  lost  his 
temper.  u  I  have  asked  you  kindly,  Jean,  to  tell  me, 
and  you  will  not  answer,"  he  cried  with  an  oath. 
"  Now  I  am  going  to  make  you  tell  me." 

Le  Bossu  smiled  grimly.  "  You  can  never  make  me 
tell  you,  Numa,"  said  he,  "  for  I  have  given  my  promise 
not  to  do  so." 

Numa  became  furious.  "  We  shall  see  about  that," 
he  cried,  springing  to  his  feet  and  advancing  threat 
eningly  toward  the  little  man  with  clenched  fists  and 
blazing  eyes. 

With  a  bound  Le  Bossu  left  his  chair  and  retreated 
to  a  corner  of  the  room  where  he  stood  with  his  back 
against  the  wall,  one  hand  fumbling  uncertainly  inside 
his  blouse. 

"Will  you  tell  me  now,  Jean?"  raged  Numa,  rais- 

256 


NUMA    MAKES    ONE    CONQUEST 

ing  his  clenched  fist  above  the  misshapen  figure  be 
fore  him. 

The  little  man  waved  him  back  with  his  free  hand. 
"  Do  not  come  any  closer.  Do  not  come  any  closer," 
he  gasped.  "  If  you  do  I  swear  to  God  that  I  will 
kill  you." 

There  was  a  look  in  his  white,  drawn  face  that 
caused  the  furious  Numa  to  draw  back  for  a  moment 
and  lower  his  arm.  There  was  a  gleam  in  his  great 
brown  eyes  that  caused  the  bully  to  smile  in  a  sheepish 
way  and  to  beg  his  pardon. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Jean,"  he  mumbled.  "  I  lost  my  tem 
per.  You  know  that  I  would  never  have  struck  you." 

Very  slowly  Le  Bossu  withdrew  his  hand  from  inside 
his  blouse  and  walked  to  the  door.  Standing  upon  its 
threshold  he  spoke  very  quietly,  his  voice  low  and 
earnest. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  woods  until  you  are  in  a  better 
humor,"  said  he.  "  You  are  very  foolish,  Numa.  But 
once  before  in  your  whole  life  have  you  been  as  close 
to  death  as  you  were  but  a  moment  ago." 

"And  when  was  that?"  asked  Numa,  his  bravado 
all  gone,  his  voice  trembling. 

Le  Bossu  laughed  scornfully.  "  That,"  said  he, 
"  like  the  name  of  the  one  who  gave  Aline  her  ring, 
you  shall  never  know." 


257 


CHAPTER   XIII 

AUNT    BETTY   DECIDES 

THE  spring  had  burst  in  its  full  glory  upon  Bel- 
rive,  and  far  and  wide  the  land  was  a  wilder 
ness  of  tender  green  and  fragrant  blossoms. 

Down  in  the  field  the  brown  stretch  of  the  cuts  was 
dotted  with  innumerable  tiny  shoots  of  green  with  a 
multitude  of  slender  blades;  of  long,  tender  sprouts 
blending  down  from  the  palest  of  green  to  the  softest 
of  gleaming  white. 

All  day  long  the  big  pumping  plant  upon  the  bayou 
worked  and  throbbed  and  panted  in  the  hot  sunlight. 
All  day  long  the  wheels  went  round  and  round  with  tire 
less  energy,  turning  the  pump  that,  having  seized  the 
brown  muddy  water  from  its  intake,  hurried  it  through 
the  big  discharge  pipe  and  hurled  it  a  mass  of  foam  and 
spray  into  the  long  wooden  flume  that  waited  to 
receive  it. 

And  here  the  water,  released  again  into  the  clear  open 
air,  rushes  merrily  along  between  the  yellow  cypress 
walls,  its  tiny  waves  and  ripples  dancing  and  sparkling 
in  the  sunlight,  madly  waving  the  long,  green  slime  at 
the  bottom  of  the  flume  until  it  is  dashed  once  more, 
with  a  roar  and  a  burst  of  misty  white,  into  the  cavern 
ous  depths  of  the  main  canal. 

258 


AUNT    BETTY    DECIDES 

And  now  the  water,  its  journey  almost  ended,  flows 
peacefully  along  between  the  high,  grass-covered  levees 
of  the  main  canal  and  from  there  into  the  laterals, 
whence  it  is  presently  floated  into  the  cuts  and  sinks  deep 
into  the  loose,  dry  earth  that  has  waited  so  eagerly  for 
its  coming. 

Here  it  lies  in  placid  contentment,  lazily  rustling  the 
tiny  spears  of  rice,  tenderly  cooling  and  soothing  its 
delicate  blades,  until  they  are  fresh  and  strong  and 
green  again. 

All  day  long  the  water-tenders  go  among  the  cuts 
with  sodden  clothes  and  dripping  shovels,  cutting  floats 
in  the  field  levees,  through  which  the  brown  water 
rushes  in  torrents,  damming  up  other  floats  with  heavy 
walls  of  earth,  behind  which  the  imprisoned  water 
swirls  angrily,  ever  guiding  the  cool,  life-giving  stream 
from  the  great  flume  in  its  journey  over  the  dry,  thirsty 
fields. 

And  so  the  great  wheels  turn,  the  water  flows,  the  dry 
canals  are  filled  to  overflowing  and  the  water-tenders 
rush  madly  from  one  cut  to  another,  for  the  new  crop 
has  come  and  all  must  work  to  save  it;  must  strive  to 
help  it  through  its  infancy;  must  feed  it  with  the  water 
that  is  its  life. 

It  was  very  gratifying  to  Mr.  Parker,  this  scene  of 
growth  and  activity,  and  as  he  rode  along  toward  the 
big  house  his  smile  was  one  of  great  satisfaction.  He 
had  found  Aunt  Betty  away  for  a  week  at  Sunnyside 
when  he  had  called  after  his  talk  upon  the  old  doctor's 
porch,  and  he  had  utilized  the  time  of  her  absence  in 
seriously  considering  the  question  of  matrimony. 

259 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  now  he  had  come  to  a  decision,  Aunt  Betty  was 
back  at  Belrive  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  get  her  opinion 
upon  this  momentous  question. 

She  answered  his  ring  at  the  door  in  person,  and 
greeted  him  warmly. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  she  as  they  shook  hands, 
"  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  missed  you  last  Sunday.  Come 
into  the  parlor  and  tell  me  who  she  is,  for  I  am  sure 
that  that  is  what  you  have  come  to  see  me  about." 

Mr.  Parker  nodded  his  head.  "  Yes,  Miss  Betty," 
replied  he.  "  That  is  what  I  have  come  to  tell  you." 

"  And  her  name?  "  began  Aunt  Betty  impatiently. 

"  Aline,"  replied  Mr.  Parker. 

Aunt  Betty  gave  a  little  jump  of  surprise.  "  You 
can't  mean  the  Aline  that  lives  here?"  she  cried. 

"  She  is  the  one  that  I  mean,"  answered  Mr.  Parker. 
"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

Aunt  Betty  thought  for  a  few  moments.  "  I  sup 
pose  that  she  will  do,"  said  she  finally.  "  I  have  only 
seen  her  once,  but  from  what  Marjorie  tells  me,  she 
must  be  a  nice,  sweet-tempered  girl.  She  is  pretty  also ; 
I  had  hoped,  though,  that  you  would  fly  a  little  higher. 
She  has  no  kin  but  her  uncle,  you  know,  who  works  in 
the  field." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Parker.  "  I  know  all  that,  but  I 
don't  mind  it.  She  is  a  pretty  girl  and  a  nice  one,  and 
that's  enough  for  me.  My  father  worked  in  a  field, 
too,  up  in  Vermont,  and  it  wasn't  half  as  good  a  field 
as  Aline's  uncle's  field  is,  for  it  was  full  of  rocks  as  big 
as  your  head.  If  you  are  satisfied  with  her,  and  she 
will  have  me,  I  will  marry  her  to-morrow." 

260 


AUNT    BETTY    DECIDES 

Aunt  Betty  nodded  her  head  approvingly.  "  That  is 
the  way  to  look  at  it,"  replied  she.  "  Where  did  you 
meet  this  girl?  " 

"  I  haven't  met  her  yet,"  answered  Mr.  Parker. 

Aunt  Betty's  face  grew  dark.  "  You  are  not  trying 
to  joke?  "  she  began. 

Mr.  Parker  shook  his  head  emphatically.  "  No,  no, 
Miss  Betty,"  he  cried.  "  I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a 
thing.  I  have  only  seen  this  girl  once  and  that  was 
last  Sunday.  She  was  so  pretty  that  I  asked  about  her 
and  found  out  that  she  had  a  good  temper,  which  is  my 
chief  requisite  in  a  wife.  When  I  found  out  also  that 
she  lived  here  I  came  straight  over  to  see  you,  for  I 
felt  sure  that  as  she  was  one  of  your  tenants  you  would 
know  all  about  her." 

"  Of  course  I  know  all  about  her,"  interrupted  Aunt 
Betty,  who  was  angry  with  herself  for  allowing  her 
ignorance  concerning  the  girl  to  become  so  manifest  to 
Mr.  Parker.  "  I  know  more  about  this  girl  than  you 
will  ever  know  about  her.  I  have  simply  been  drawing 
you  out,  that  is  all.  When  do  you  expect  to  meet  her?  " 

"  To-night,"  replied  Mr.  Parker.  "  There  is  going 
to  be  a  dance  at  Eloi  Beaudoin's,  and  Carey  has  prom 
ised  to  drive  me  over  to  it.  I  hear  that  she  is  going 
with  a  man  named  Numa  Le  Blanc." 

"  My  truthful  hunter!  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Betty. 

"  Indeed?  "  said  Mr.  Parker.  "  He  doesn't  look  in 
the  least  truthful." 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  sarcasm,"  replied  Aunt 
Betty.  "  He  told  me  the  truth  once,  probably  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  and  he  did  it  for  no  reason  in  the 

261 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

world,  except  to  be  contrary.     He  will  be  a  dangerous 
rival,  Mr.  Parker." 

Mr.  Parker  smiled  grimly.  "  No  more  dangerous  a 
rival  to  me  than  I  shall  be  to  him,"  replied  he. 

For  a  while  the  two  were  silent,  and  then  Aunt  Betty 
gave  her  shoulders  a  little  shrug  and  sat  up  straight  in 
her  chair,  which  was  a  sign  that  she  had  made  up  her 
mind. 

"  Go  to  the  dance  to-night  and  meet  the  girl,"  said 
she.  "  If  you  are  satisfied  with  her,  ask  her  to  marry 
you.  Should  she  refuse  you,  I  tell  you  candidly  that  I 
will  help  you  no  further  in  the  matter  for  two  reasons. 
The  first  is,  that  she  is  one  of  the  tenants  here  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  annoy  her  and  make  her  dissatisfied  with 
Belrive.  The  second  is  that,  although  I  am  not  opposed 
to  your  marrying  her,  I  think  that  there  are  any  number 
of  girls  about  here  more  suitable  for  you  than  she  is. 
Should  she  accept  you,  I  shall  do  all  in  my  power  to  help 
you,  and  now  let  us  dismiss  this  matter  entirely  until 
you  have  spoken  to  her,  for  we  have  said  all  that  ought 
reasonably  to  be  said  about  it." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Parker.  "  The  next  thing 
that  I  shall  say  to  you  about  it  will  be  the  result  of  my 
proposal." 

Again  the  two  were  silent,  each  thinking  of  the  for 
bidden  topic  of  conversation,  each  waiting  for  the  other 
to  speak  of  something  else. 

Finally  Aunt  Betty  broke  the  silence.  "  How  are  the 
cantaloupes?"  she  asked  disdainfully. 

Mr.  Parker  gave  a  little  jump  as  though  he  were 
coming  out  of  a  reverie. 

262 


AUNT    BETTY    DECIDES 

"  They  came  up  and  grew  all  right,  and  made  what 
the  seed  book  calls  fine,  strong  plants,"  said  he.  "  The 
weather  was  favorable,  and  there  was  no  frost.  You 
certainly  are  a  weather  prophet,  Miss  Betty,  and  one 
that  the  most  careful  gardener  might  go  by  with  per 
fect  safety." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Aunt  Betty,  remembering  with 
a  shudder  her  fears  and  apprehensions  of  a  few  weeks 
before. 

"  Well,"  continued  Mr.  Parker,  "  as  I  have  said,  I 
have  fine,  strong  plants  and  they  are  simply  crowded 
with  little  melons.  I  have  never  seen  such  a  crop  in 
all  my  life." 

"  And  I  suppose,"  said  Aunt  Betty,  "  that  you  will 
make  an  enormous  fortune." 

Mr.  Parker  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  No,"  answered 
he,  "  I  won't  make  anything.  You  see,  I  didn't  look  up 
the  freight  rates  on  cantaloupes  until  a  few  days  ago, 
and  then  I  found  that  by  shipping  them  to  the  city  I 
would  lose  a  cent  on  each  one  of  them.  It  is  very  dis 
couraging,  especially  when  you  consider  what  a  fine 
crop  I  have,  but  I  am  going  to  ship  some  just  as  an 
experiment.  I  feel  that  I  owe  it  to  the  cantaloupes 
to  do  so." 

Aunt  Betty  regarded  Mr.  Parker  curiously  for  a 
moment. 

"  My  husband  once  knew  an  old  negro  named  Per- 
rot,"  said  she,  "  and  one  day  he  met  him  after  not 
having  seen  him  for  quite  a  long  while." 

"  '  Well,  Perrot,'  said  my  husband,  *  What  are  you 
doing  now  for  a  living?  ' 

263 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  *  I'm  trading  horses,'  answered  Perrot.  *  I  sold 
four  Cajun  ponies  last  week.' 

"  '  What  did  you  pay  for  them?  '  asked  my  husband. 

"  '  Eight  dollars,'  replied  Perrot. 

"  t  And  what  did  you  get  for  them?' 

"  '  Six  dollars,'  replied  Perrot. 

"  '  Of  course,'  said  my  husband,  '  you  ought  to  know 
what  you  are  doing,  but  I  can't  exactly  see  how  you 
can  make  much  money  in  such  a  business  as  that.' 

"  *  Well,  Boss,'  answered  Perrot,  '  a  man's  got  to  do 
something  to  support  his  family.'  ' 

Aunt  Betty  ceased  speaking.  Mr.  Parker  laughed 
and  rose  from  his  chair. 

"Come  now,  Miss  Betty,"  said  he.  "That  story 
can't  apply  to  me.  I  haven't  any  family." 

"  No,"  replied  Aunt  Betty  grimly.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon.  It  cannot.  You  haven't  even  that  excuse." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Parker  as  he  prepared  to  leave, 
"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  advice  and  I 
will  let  you  know  how  my  future  happiness  is  to  be 
arranged  just  as  soon  as  I  find  out  myself." 

"  Do,"  replied  Aunt  Betty,  who  had  come  out  upon 
the  front  gallery  with  her  visitor,  "  and  remember,  not 
a  word  about  it  until  everything  is  settled." 

With  a  smile  of  great  amusement  upon  her  sharp, 
clever  face  she  watched  him  mount  and  ride  away. 

"  Did  any  one  ever  hear  of  such  a  man,"  said  she 
to  herself  as  she  finally  went  into  the  house  again. 


264 


CHAPTER    XIV 

HISTORY   REPEATS   ITSELF 

TRUE  to  his  promise,  Carey  stopped  by  for 
Mr.  Parker  and  found  that  usually  sedate 
gentleman  in  a  state  of  pleasurable  excitement. 
As  they  drove  along  he  held  forth  volubly  upon  the 
beauty  of  Aline  until,  finding  his  companion  strangely 
unresponsive,  he  relapsed  into  silence,  thinking  of  what 
he  would  say  to  her  wrhen  he  had  met  her. 

The  night  was  a  beautiful  one,  with  a  full  moon 
and  a  cloudless  sky  dotted  with  innumerable  twinkling 
stars  that  seemed  to  have  been  strewn  from  one  end  of 
the  heavens  to  the  other.  A  little  breeze  had  sprung 
up  at  nightfall  and  the  tall  weeds  on  the  roadside 
nodded  grotesquely,  bending  aside  for  a  moment  that 
one  might  see  the  dark  stretch  of  the  fields,  and  farther 
away  the  black  line  of  the  forest,  all  white  and  hazy  in 
the  moonlight,  picked  out  here  and  there  with  a  tiny 
dot  of  light  from  some  cabin  window. 

Presently  they  came  to  a  byroad  barred  by  a  high 
wooden  gate,  behind  which  a  long  avenue  of  china  trees 
stretched  away  interminably.  Back  of  the  trees  a  vast 
number  of  twinkling  lights  told  of  a  house  illuminated 
for  some  occasion,  while  the  sound  of  music  borne 

265 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

faintly  on  the  wind  left  but  little  doubt  as  to  what  the 
occasion  was. 

Driving  through  the  gateway  they  went  up  the 
avenue  of  china  trees  which,  being  in  bloom,  filled  the 
air  with  the  fragrance  of  their  lilac  blossoms;  and  com 
ing  out  into  a  little  grove  the  dance  hall  was  before 
them. 

It  was  a  long,  heavy  structure,  built  on  one  side  of 
the  small  frame  house  in  which  its  owner  lived,  made 
of  bare,  unpainted  cypress  boards,  and  raised  from  the 
ground  upon  heavy  blocks  of  oak.  The  lights  streamed 
from  its  open  windows,  mingled  with  the  sound  of 
laughter,  of  high-pitched  voices,  chattering  in  French, 
and  the  shuffling  of  many  feet. 

Carey,  getting  out  of  the  buggy,  led  the  way  toward 
the  dwelling,  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Parker,  who  was 
all  impatience  to  meet  the  maiden  of  his  choice.  Upon 
the  low  porch  of  his  house  stood  Eloi  Beaudoin  him 
self  who  greeted  them  warmly  and  led  the  way  into 
the  dance  hall,  where  their  appearance  was  the  signal 
for  a  sudden  hush  to  fall  upon  the  dancers. 

They  all  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  in 
truders;  some  with  surprise,  some  with  indifference  and 
many  with  suspicion,  for  the  Cajun  is  a  wary  soul,  ever 
distrustful  of  strangers. 

The  dance  hall,  a  long  board  room,  its  floor  smooth 
and  glossy  with  beeswax,  was  lighted  by  a  number  of 
lamps  fastened  to  the  wall  and  hanging  from  the  ceil 
ing.  Along  both  sides  ran  a  long  row  of  benches  upon 
which  the  dancers  rested  themselves,  while  at  one  end 
was  a  little  wooden  platform  for  the  musicians,  three 

266 


HISTORY    REPEATS    ITSELF 

in  number,  playing  upon  the  violin,  the  clarionet  and  the 
accordion. 

A  dance  had  just  ended  as  Carey  and  Mr.  Parker 
entered,  and  they  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway 
watching  the  couples  as  they  slowly  promenaded  about 
the  room  or  sat  upon  the  benches  talking  and  laughing 
with  much  waving  of  fans  and  mopping  of  hot,  flushed 
faces. 

It  was  here  that  one  saw  these  people  in  all  the 
heterogeneous  mixture  of  their  different  kinds  and  sta 
tions.  Here  was  a  well-to-do  farmer  from  the  prairies, 
his  clothes  strong  and  good,  yet  old-fashioned,  speaking 
solemnly  with  his  neighbor  of  the  price  of  cotton,  of 
corn  or  of  rice. 

Here  was  an  old  man  from  far  away  up  the  bayou, 
white-haired  and  bent,  treated  with  deference  by  all, 
wholly  ignorant  and  illiterate,  brought  down  from  his 
distant  home  to  see  the  wonders  of  Landry. 

Here  was  a  young  man  from  Landry  itself,  gorgeous 
as  to  apparel,  patronizing  as  to  manner,  passing  the 
girls  with  many  a  smirk  and  toss  of  his  head — a  verit 
able  gilded  youth  of  the  village  in  which  he  belonged. 

Here  was  a  swamper,  brown  and  hairy,  powerful  of 
arm  and  broad  of  shoulder,  his  clothes  old  and  torn; 
bringing  with  him,  it  seemed,  a  breath  of  the  great 
woods  in  which  he  lived. 

Here  was  a  merchant  from  some  distant  country 
store,  cool  and  suave,  dressed  in  white  linen  trousers 
and  shiny  alpaca  coat,  talking  blandly  of  business  with 
many  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  raising  of  the  eye 
brows. 

267 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  here  above  all  were  the  girls,  bright  and  pretty 
every  one  of  them,  with  their  dark  hair,  their  great 
black  eyes  and  their  fresh,  rosy  cheeks. 

It  was  a  happy,  pleasure-seeking  throng  that,  having 
for  a  moment  laid  aside  its  cares  and  worries,  sought 
to  enjoy  itself  as  best  it  could. 

For  a  while  Carey  stood  in  the  doorway  with  his 
companion  looking  for  Aline,  and  then,  suddenly  catch 
ing  sight  of  her,  he  called  to  Mr.  Parker  to  follow  him, 
and  went  over  to  where  she  sat  with  her  partner  upon 
one  of  the  benches  against  the  wall. 

Very  sweet  she  looked  in  her  simple  dress  of  white, 
and  when  she  saw  Carey  coming  toward  her  she  rose 
to  her  feet  with  a  smile  of  welcome. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  at  the  dance,  M'sieu" 
said  she. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  come  myself,"  answered  Carey, 
"  but  I  was  induced  to  by  my  friend  here,  Mr.  Parker, 
who,  by  the  way,  is  very  anxious  to  meet  you." 

The  girl  held  out  her  hand.  "  I  am  glad  to  meet  one 
of  M'sieu  Gordon's  friends,"  said  she. 

Mr.  Parker  took  the  little  hand  that  was  held  out 
toward  him,  and  (as  he  afterward  told  Carey)  was  "  a 
goner  from  the  start." 

The  musicians  began  to  tune  their  instruments;  a 
man  suddenly  sprang  upon  the  little  platform  and  smote 
himself  upon  the  chest.  He  was  a  tall,  broad-shoul 
dered  man,  and  his  face  was  flushed  as  though  from 
drinking. 

"  Messieurs  et  Mesdames,"  he  cried.  "  Moi  suis 
maitre  du  bal.  La  premiere  chose,  ca  va  etre  une  valse. 

268 


HISTORY    REPEATS    ITSELF 

La  seconde  chose,  ca  va  etre  une  polka.  La  troisieme 
chose  qa  va  etre  une  contradance,  et  la  quatrieme  chose 
qa  va  etre  une  gavotte" 

He  ceased  speaking  and  the  music  began;  a  low, 
plaintive  wail  at  first,  rising  louder  and  louder,  devoid 
of  time  or  harmony,  yet  having  a  certain  rhythm  about 
it  that  set  one  longing  to  be  up  and  dancing.  The 
musicians  beat  upon  the  floor  in  time  to  the  music,  the 
couples  arose  from  the  benches  and  began  to  dance. 

Mr.  Parker  turned  to  Aline.  "  Shall  we  try  this 
one?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  you  wish  to,  My sieu  Parker,"  she  replied,  and  in 
a  moment  he  had  whirled  her  away,  leaving  her  late 
partner  to  stare  after  her  in  astonishment. 

Carey  watched  them  for  a  moment  as  they  dodged 
their  way  in  and  out  among  the  crowd  of  dancers  that 
thronged  the  floor,  and  then  turning  away  he  found  a 
man  whom  he  wished  to  see,  and  was  soon  talking  with 
him,  seated  at  one  of  the  tables  that  crowded  Eloi 
Beaudoin's  dwelling.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  there  talk 
ing  in  French  and  drinking  cup  after  cup  of  fragrant 
black  coffee,  for  your  Cajun,  no  matter  how  temperate 
he  is  in  matters  of  liquor,  is  ever  a  coffee  toper,  and  you 
must  drink  with  him  when  he  invites  you  or  he  will 
be  offended. 

The  dancing  went  on,  the  musicians  playing  piece 
after  piece  with  tireless  energy.  Eloi  Beaudoin  finally 
thrust  his  head  into  the  hall  with  a  shout. 

"  Gumbo  pare!  "  he  cried. 

The  musicians  ceased  playing,  the  men  took  the  girls 
upon  their  arms  and  marched  slowly  into  the  dwelling, 

269 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

for  it  was  the  custom  that  each  man  must  treat  his  part 
ner  to  a  plate  of  gumbo. 

Mr.  Parker  followed  along  with  the  crowd,  his  collar 
wilted,  his  face  purple  in  his  efforts  to  converse  with  his 
partner,  a  slip  of  a  girl  of  fifteen,  who  spoke  not  a  word 
of  English. 

"  Je  ne  non  parley  Franqais"  he  kept  repeating 
pathetically. 

Carey  smiled  at  him  as  he  came  into  the  room. 
"Where  is  Aline?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  sighed  Mr.  Parker  dejectedly.  "  I 
was  dancing  with  this  young  lady  when  they  stopped 
for  refreshments,"  and  hurrying  to  a  table  he  was  soon 
making  amends  for  the  scarcity  of  his  French  with  the 
lavishness  of  his  entertainment. 

Carey  looked  about  the  crowded  room  for  Aline,  but 
could  not  find  her.  Suddenly  he  felt  a  tug  at  his  coat, 
and  turning  he  saw  Le  Bossu,  who  was  beckoning  to 
him  frantically. 

"  Come  quickly,  M'sieu"  cried  he,  "  or  you  will  be 
too  late.  The  little  man's  eyes  were  wide  with  terror 
and  he  shook  with  excitement  and  impatience. 

Carey  followed  him  curiously  as  he  trotted  away,  and 
in  a  moment  found  himself  outside  in  the  grove  with  Le 
Bossu  hurrying  along  beside  him. 

"  See,"  gasped  the  hunchback,  pointing  toward  a  dim 
figure  among  the  trees.  "  There  he  is,  M'sieu.  Hurry, 
hurry,  or  you  will  be  too  late." 

And  so  Carey  quickened  his  pace  and  came  in  a 
moment  upon  a  sight  that  caused  him  to  cry  out  in 
anger,  for  there  before  him  in  the  moonlight,  amid  the 

270 


HISTORY'  REPEATS    ITSELF 

lace-like  shadows  of  the  china  trees,  stood  Numa,  wild 
and  drunk  and  crazy,  holding  in  his  arms  a  strug 
gling  white  figure  that  called  out  to  him  weakly 
for  mercy. 

"  It  is  Aline,  M'sieu,"  cried  the  hunchback.  "  Hurry, 
for  the  love  of  God." 

With  a  spring  Carey  was  upon  the  drunken  man  and 
struck  him  to  the  ground.  The  girl  seized  her  rescuer 
with  a  grip  of  terror  and  cowered  against  him 
trembling. 

"  Save  me,  M'sieu,  save  me,"  she  cried. 

Carey  put  his  arm  about  her  and  spoke  to  her  very 
quietly.  "  Do  not  be  afraid,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  I  will 
not  let  him  touch  you  again." 

For  a  moment  Numa  lay  where  he  had  fallen  as 
though  he  was  stunned,  and  then  with  an  oath  he 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I  have  owed  you  a  debt  for  a  long  time,  M'sicu, 
and  now  I  am  going  to  pay  you,"  he  panted. 

His  knife  flashed  for  an  instant  in  the  moonlight. 

Le  Bossu  sprang  forward. 

Carey  put  his  hand  behind  him  and  motioned  to  the 
little  man  to  move  aside.  "  Stand  away,  Jean,"  he 
cried.  "  I  am  going  to  shoot  him." 

With  a  cry  the  girl  seized  his  arm.  "  Do  not  kill 
him,  M'sieu,"  she  gasped.  "  It  is  murder.  Let  him 
go,  M'sieu,  let  him  go." 

Carey  lowered  his  arm.  "  Throw  down  your  knife," 
said  he. 

Numa  obeyed  him  sullenly. 

"  Now  go,"  said  Carey,  "  and  if  ever  you  touch  this 

271 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

girl  again  I  will  kill  you,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven."  * 

For  a  moment  Numa  stood  irresolute,  and  then 
without  a  word  he  plunged  into  the  darkness  of  the 
trees. 

Carey  turned  to  the  girl  who  was  now  weeping  softly. 
"  You  are  nervous  and  excited,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  You 
should  go  home,  and  I  will  take  you." 

He  found  his  buggy  and,  helping  the  girl  into  it, 
drove  for  a  while  in  silence,  Aline  sobbing  softly  beside 
him,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  After  a  time  she 
was  quiet  and  he  turned  to  her.  "  Tell  me  how  it 
happened,  Aline,"  said  he  gently. 

The  girl  gave  a  little  shudder  and  choked  the  sob 
that  came  to  her  lips. 

"  It  was  when  they  all  went  out  for  the  gumbo, 
M'sieu,"  replied  she.  u  Numa  called  that  Jean  wished 
to  see  me  and  I  went  out  to  him.  When  I  reached  the 
grove  I  found  that  he  had  been  drinking  and  I  started 
to  go  back  to  the  house  again,  but  he  seized  my  arm 
and  told  me  that  I  must  kiss  him.  I  tried  to  get  away 
from  him,  but  he  only  held  me  tighter,  saying  that  he 
would  make  me  kiss  him.  It  was  then  that  I  called  for 
help  and  Jean  came.  He  is  so  small  and  weak  that  he 
could  do  nothing,  M'situ,  and  so  he  went  for  you  and — 
and — that  is  all." 

"  Yes,"  said  Carey.  "  That  is  all,  for  I  promise  you 
that  he  will  never  trouble  you  again.  I  shall  see  myself 
that  he  does  not."  And  then  he  set  about  to  soothe  and 
calm  the  girl  as  best  he  could. 

Finally  they  came  to  Belrive  and  went  down  the 

272 


HISTORY    REPEATS    ITSELF 

plantation  road  to  where  the  little  cabin  stood  all  silvery 
in  the  moonlight.  About  it  lay  the  fields,  sleeping 
snugly  beneath  their  soft,  white  coverlet  of  mist. 

Carey  helped  the  girl  to  the  ground,  where  she  paused 
for  a  moment  and  gazed  up  at  him  with  tear-filled 
eyes.  "  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you,  My sieu" 
said  she.  "  I  shall  never  forget  what  you  have  done  for 
me.  It  is  little  to  say  I  thank  you,  but  it  is  all  that  I 
can  do.  So  good  night,  M'sieu,  and  again  thank  you." 
She  held  out  her  hand. 

As  she  spoke  to  him  her  face  lit  softly  by  the  moon 
light,  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her  lips  trembling, 
Carey  had  a  mad  desire  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  to  kiss 
her  and  soothe  her  like  the  child  that  she  was;  but  he 
only  held  the  little  hand  in  his  for  a  moment,  as  he 
bade  her  good  night. 

As  he  drove  back  along  the  plantation  road  he 
thought  of  the  girl  as  he  had  never  thought  of  her 
before.  He  could  feel  the  despairing  grip  of  her  little 
fingers  as  she  had  held  him  but  a  short  while  ago.  He 
could  feel  her  slender  body  trembling  against  his,  the 
feathery  wisp  of  her  hair  that  had  blown  against  his 
cheek. 

He  could  hear  her  cry  of  joy  as  he  had  come  to  her, 
her  sigh  of  relief  as  she  had  cowered  against  him.  A 
strange  feeling  possessed  him. 

And  then  he  thought  of  Numa  and  his  anger  flared 
up  to  a  white  heat.  He  wished  that  he  had  killed  him. 
How  could  he  dare  to  touch  such  a  beautiful  girl,  to 
think  that  she  should  care  to  kiss  him? 

Suddenly  he  gave  a  harsh  little  laugh,  and  sat  up 

273 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

very  straight,  his  shoulders  squared,  his  chin  thrust 
forward  defiantly. 

"  Carey  Gordon,  don't  be  a  fool,"  said  he  to  him 
self  severely.  "  Of  what  possible  interest  can  this  girl 
be  to  you?  She  is  a  Cajun  and  one  of  your  tenants. 
She  is  no  more  to  you  than  any  of  the  others  at  Bel- 
rive.  You  must  be  dreaming.  It  must  be  the  moon. 
This  shall  not  happen  again." 

And  so  true  to  his  resolution  he  drove  along  for 
quite  a  while,  his  thoughts  far  away  from  any  disturbing 
influence,  but  when  at  last  he  came  to  Eloi  Beaudoin's 
and  went  up  the  fragrant  avenue  of  china  trees  he  was 
dreaming  again,  dreaming  in  the  witchery  of  the  moon 
light. 


274 


CHAPTER    XV 

ALINE  MAKES  A  SACRIFICE 

IN  the  big  yellow  church  at  Landry  Father  Bertrand 
was   dismissing  his   catechism   class   for   the   last 
time,  and  upon  his  patient  face  there  was  a  look 
of  quiet  joy,  for  the  children  had  done  well. 

His  pupils,  their  lessons  over  forever,  trooped  out 
of  the  church  in  joyful  silence,  and  once  outside  gave 
vent  to  their  happiness  in  many  shouts  and  shrill 
screams  of  laughter. 

The  girls,  gathering  together  in  little  groups, 
solemnly  discussed  some  question  of  vast  importance, 
shaking  their  heads  knowingly  and  pointing  about  their 
persons  as  though  they  were  going  about  the  operation 
of  putting  on  a  vast  amount  of  imaginary  clothing. 

And  why  should  they  not,  for  in  every  store  in  Lan 
dry  were  there  many  yards  of  soft  white  cloth;  in 
every  window  was  there  wreath  upon  wreath  of  cool, 
white  flowers;  in  every  house  was  there  sewing  and 
cutting  and  trying  on  of  filmy  white  dresses:  for  in 
seven  days  these  girls  would  make  their  first  com 
munion,  and  they  must  be  dressed  according  to  custom, 
in  the  finest,  the  nicest,  the  whitest  of  garments  that 
the  purses  of  their  parents  could  afford. 

275 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  so  the  boys  played  and  shouted,  the  girls  talked, 
together  joyously  of  their  new  dresses,  and  all  were 
happy  at  the  prospect  of  their  approaching  good  for 
tune.  All  save  one,  a  girl,  who,  creeping  away  from  the 
rest  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the  church,  sadly  went  her 
way  up  the  long,  dusty  road. 

She  had  not  gone  very  far,  however,  when  there  came 
the  sound  of  wheels  behind  her  and  a  voice  called  out 
cheerily,  "  Wait  a  minute,  Miss  Aline,  and  I'll  drive 
you  home." 

Turning,  she  saw  a  man  in  a  low-covered  buggy 
who  was  smiling  pleasantly  at  her.  Without  wait 
ing  for  her  to  accept  his  invitation  he  drove  up,  got 
out  of  the  buggy  and  very  gallantly  helped  her 
into  it. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  as  he  got  in  beside  her,  "  I  think 
that  you'll  find  this  much  better  than  walking." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  M'sieu  Parker,"  gasped  the 
girl,  who  was  all  but  breathless  from  her  quick  ascent 
to  the  broad  leather  seat.  "  It  is  a  long  walk  and  I 
have  much  to  do  at  home.  But  am  I  not  taking  you  out 
of  your  way?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  not  in  the  least,"  cried  Mr.  Parker 
beaming.  "  I  was  on  my  way  to  Belrive  when  I  met 
you.  I  stopped  at  the  church  thinking  that  I  would 
find  you  there,  but  I  was  told  that  you  had  left,  and  so 
I  came  on  as  quickly  as  I  could,  hoping  that  I  would 
catch  up  with  you.  And  now  tell  me  all  about  the 
catechism.  You  will  make  your  first  communion,  will 
you  not?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Aline,  and  then  in  her  simple  way 

276 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

she  told  him  of  how  she  had  worked  and  of  how  Father 
Bertrand  had  helped  her,  while  Mr.  Parker  beamed 
and  smiled  and  listened  in  rapt  attention. 

Finally  they  came  to  the  little  cabin  and  Mr.  Parker, 
helping  Aline  from  the  buggy,  got  out  himself  and  tied 
the  horse. 

"  Can  I  come  in  and  talk  to  you  for  a  while?" 
asked  he. 

"  Certainly,  M'sieu  Parker,"  answered  the  girl,  "  but 
I  must  ask  you  if  you  will  mind  my  spinning  while  you 
talk,  for  I  have  much  work  to  do." 

Inside  the  cabin  she  looked  about  the  room  for  a 
moment  undecided  and  then  pointed  through  the  open 
door  to  the  orchard  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

"  It  is  very  cool  and  nice  out  there,"  she  began. 

Mr.  Parker  seized  the  spinning  wheel  and  hurried  it 
outside.  Aline  followed  him,  carrying  a  chair  and  the 
fluffy  mass  of  cotton. 

The  little  orchard  was  delightfully  cool  and  it  was 
also  delightfully  sweet,  for  the  pear  trees  were  in 
bloom  and  the  tall,  white  shafts  of  blossoms  filled  the 
air  with  their  delicate  fragrance.  Beneath  the  trees 
the  ground  was  covered  with  a  snowy  mass  of  fallen 
leaves  and  the  aisles  between  the  rows  were  a  miracle  of 
chasteness. 

Here  amid  the  fragrant  silence,  unbroken  save  by  the 
fall  of  the  tiny  petals  or  the  lazy  humming  of  the  bees, 
Mr.  Parker  placed  the  spinning  wheel  and  seated  him 
self  upon  the  great  oaken  bench  near-by. 

"  I  guess  you're  a  good  deal  surprised  at  my  visit, 
aren't  you,  Miss  Aline?  "  he  asked. 

277 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  girl  carefully  started  her  wheel,  and  then 
answered  him  frankly. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu,  Parker,"  she  replied.  "  I  am  sur 
prised." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Parker,  "  I  want  to  ask 
you  something." 

The  girl  stopped  her  spinning  and  stared  at  him  in 
amazement.  "  You  wish  to  ask  me  something,  M'sieu 
Parker?  "  she  cried. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Parker,  fumbling  in  his  pocket. 
"  You  don't  mind  my  smoking,  do  you?  " 

The  girl  looked  puzzled.  "  Why  should  I  mind  your 
smoking,  M'sieu  Parker?"  she  asked. 

Mr.  Parker  drew  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  en 
deavored  to  light  it.  Match  after  match  broke  in  his 
trembling  fingers  and  his  face  grew  purple  with  embar 
rassment.  He  seemed  very  nervous. 

Aline  watched  him  curiously,  a  smile  of  amusement 
hovering  about  her  lips. 

"  Was  it  about  the  cigar  that  you  wished  to  ask  me?  " 
she  inquired. 

Mr.  Parker  flung  the  cigar  away  and  shook  his  head 
violently.  "  No,  no.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if — if — " 
He  stopped  short  and  wiped  his  face,  which  was  cov 
ered  with  perspiration.  He  seemed  very  nervous  indeed. 

"If  what,  M'sieu  Parker?"  asked  the  girl  in 
bewilderment. 

"  If  er — if  er — "  Mr.  Parker  stopped  again  and 
fumbled  in  his  pocket  nervously.  "  Let  me  get  a 
cigar,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  can  always  talk  better  when 
I'm  smoking." 

278 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

Again  he  struggled  with  the  matches  only  to  give  up 
in  despair,  as  he  had  done  before. 

Aline  looked  worried.  "  Are  you  sick,  M'sieu  Par 
ker?  "  she  asked. 

Mr.  Parker  looked  at  her,  blushed,  cast  his  eyes  upon 
the  ground  and  dug  in  the  soft  earth  with  the  heel  of 
his  shoe. 

"  No,"  answered  he.  "  I  am  not  sick.  I  want  to 
ask  you  if — if — if  you  will  marry  me."  He  blurted 
out  the  last  part  of  his  speech  in  a  trembling  voice,  and 
without  raising  his  eyes  waited  for  his  answer. 

The  girl  rose  from  her  chair,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her 
eyes  filled  with  angry  tears. 

"  You  would  mock  me,  M'sieu  Parker,"  she  cried. 
"  For  shame !  " 

Mr.  Parker  raised  his  head  hurriedly.  "  When  I 
ask  you  to  marry  me,  Miss  Aline,  I  mean  it,"  said  he 
simply,  and  his  voice  rang  true. 

Slowly  the  girl  seated  herself,  and  for  a  long  time 
she  sat  looking  out  upon  the  snowy  whiteness  of  the 
trees  before  her,  her  eyes  shining  with  a  softness  that 
was  new  to  them. 

Mr.  Parker  was  the  first  to  speak.  u  What  is  it  to 
be,  Miss  Aline?"  he  asked  gently. 

When  the  girl  answered  him  her  voice  was  soft  and 
low  and  filled  with  a  tenderness  that  made  his  heart 
throb  wildly. 

"  You  have  honored  me  very  much,  M'sieu  Parker," 
said  she.  "  Me  a  poor  girl  with  no  parents,  without 
even  a  name,  and  I  thank  you.  But  it  is  not  for  me  to 
marry  you.  It  would  not  be  right.  Some  day  when 

279 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

you  went  among  your  own  people  you  would  be 
ashamed  of  me,  you  would  wish  that  you  had  never 
married  me." 

Mr.  Parker  interrupted  her  hastily.  "  No,  no," 
cried  he,  "  I  have  thought  of  that.  It  is  I  that  would 
be  honored,  and  I  would  be  proud  of  you  all  my  life, 
prouder  than  any  one  in  all  the  world." 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  You  are  wrong,  M'sieu 
Parker.  You  do  not  know,"  said  she.  u  And  even 
were  it  not  for  that  I  could  not  leave  my  uncle.  I 
have  my  work  to  do  here  and  I  am  very  happy.  Marry 
some  one  else  and  do  not  think  of  me,  for  it  would  not 
be  right." 

"  But,  Miss  Aline,"  urged  Mr.  Parker,  "  your  uncle 
could  live  with  us." 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head.  "  It  is  as  I  have 
said,"  she  answered.  "  Again  I  thank  you.  Please  do 
not  say  any  more,  M'sieu  Parker,  for  it  makes  me  sad 
to  refuse  you." 

Mr.  Parker  got  upon  his  feet  and  held  out  his  hand. 
His  red  face  was  very  grave  and  the  hand  that  he  held 
outstretched  trembled  a  little. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Aline,"  said  he.  "  I  am  going,  for 
I  know  that  it  will  only  annoy  you  to  have  me  stay  any 
longer.  I'm  not  much  of  a  talker,  but  I  want  to  tell 
you  something  and  I  hope  that  you'll  remember  it.  I 
don't  know  but  what  I'm  feeling  a  little  sad,  and  I've 
got  an  ache  here  in  my  chest  that  I  haven't  had  for  a 
long  time.  The  last  time  I  had  it  was  when  my  mother 
died,  and  I  guess  it's  the  ache  you  have  when  you  lose 
something  that  you  want  a  whole  lot. 

280 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

"  I  know  from  what  you've  said  that  there  isn't  any 
chance  for  me,  and  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  again,  but 
we  can  be  friends,  and  that's  what  I  want  you  to  remem 
ber.  If  you  ever  need  a  friend  or  want  anything,  just 
send  for  me,  and  I'll  remember  the  day  that  you  do 
so  as  the  happiest  one  in  my  life." 

As  Mr.  Parker  finished  speaking  his  voice  was  husky, 
and  he  turned  away  his  head. 

The  girl's  eyes  were  soft  with  tears  when  she  held  out 
her  hand.  "  Good-by,  my  friend,"  said  she. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Aline,"  replied  Mr.  Parker  as  he 
pressed  the  little  hand  tenderly. 

"  No,  no,"  whispered  the  girl.  "  Good-by,  Aline. 
We  are  friends,  you  know." 

Mr.  Parker  coughed  violently.  "  Good-by,  Aline," 
he  cried,  and  turning  sharply  away  he  hurried  from  the 
orchard  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

Aline  sat  staring  before  her  long  after  he  had  left, 
her  spinning  wheel  standing  idle  in  the  petal-strewn 
grass  at  her  feet,  and  when  she  at  last  took  up  the 
neglected  thread  she  spun  mechanically,  looking  down 
the  white  and  green  aisles  of  the  pear  trees,  her 
thoughts  far  away. 

Suddenly  there  wras  a  step  behind  her  and  turning 
she  beheld  Numa  coming  down  the  path. 

With  a  cry  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  scarlet, 
her  eyes  blazing  angrily. 

"  Go  away!  Go  away!  "  she  cried  loathingly.  "  I 
hate  you." 

Numa  came  on,  his  eyes  cast  down  penitently,  and 
stood  before  her. 

281 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Will  you  not  forgive  me,  Aline?  "  he  pleaded.  "  I 
am  truly  sorry,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  your  pardon." 

The  girl  drew  away  from  him  with  loathing,  and 
pointed  toward  the  road. 

"  Go,"  cried  she.  "  Go,  before  I  call  for  help  to 
drive  you  away.  Were  you  to  ask  me  a  thousand  times 
I  would  never  forgive  you  for  what  you  have  done.  I 
can  never  forget  it.  Sometimes  I  wake  at  night  and 
think  of  it  until  I  am  cold  with  fear.  Go !  Go,  Numa, 
for  the  love  of  God !  You  are  a  cruel,  wicked  man, 
and  I  fear  you." 

She  ceased  speaking  and  cowered  behind  the  great 
oaken  bench,  her  eyes  wide  with  terror,  her  hands 
pressed  to  her  heaving  bosom. 

Numa  smiled  reassuringly.  "  Do  not  fear  me, 
Aline,"  said  he.  "  Of  all  the  men  in  the  world  I  would 
be  the  last  one  to  harm  you.  Let  me  explain  this  mat 
ter  to  you.  They  gave  me  liquor  at  the  dance,  Aline — 
raw,  hot  whiskey  that  burned  my  throat  like  fire.  They 
gave  it  to  me  because  I  had  never  drunk  it  before, 
because  they  wished  to  make  a  fool  of  me.  Instead  they 
made  a  beast,  a  wild,  bad  beast,  Aline.  I  do  not 
remember  what  I  did — I  was  crazy.  It  is  all  like  some 
horrid  dream.  Had  I  not  been  mad  with  the  liquor  I 
would  never  have  done  what  I  did.  What  I  have  told 
you  I  swear,  and  if  you  will  forgive  me  I  swear  also 
that  never  again  in  my  life  will  I  allow  any  one  to  give 
me  whiskey.  And  now  will  you  not  forgive  me  ?  " 

Numa  sank  upon  his  knees  and  held  out  his  hands 
imploringly. 

The  girl  came  out  from  behind  the  bench  reassured 

282 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

by  the  penitence  in  his  voice,  but  she  still  pointed  to 
the  road  and  shook  her  head. 

"  What  you  say  may  be  true,  Numa,"  answered  she, 
"  but  I  cannot  forgive  you.  Some  day  in  the  years  to 
come  I  may  do  so,  but  do  not  ask  me  now.  Go  away, 
Numa.  Go  away." 

Numa  did  not  rise  from  his  knees,  but  bent  his  head 
lower,  and  into  his  downcast  eyes  there  came  a  gleam  of 
hope,  the  hope  of  one  who  stakes  all  upon  a  final 
desperate  play. 

"  In  seven  days,  Aline,"  said  he  slowly,  "  you  will 
go  for  the  first  time  to  holy  communion.  Would 
you  kneel  at  the  altar  upon  that  day  with  your  heart 
filled  with  hate  for  one  who  loves  you  as  I  do  ?  Think 
of  it,  Aline.  You  would  go  to  the  altar  with  my  sin 
unforgiven  by  yourself,  with  your  sins  forgiven  by 
God.  Think  of  it  and  forgive  me,  or  you  will  do  a 
great  wrong." 

Slowly  the  girl  came  forward,  her  anger  all  gone 
from  her,  her  look  as  penitent  as  that  of  the  man  who 
knelt  before  her. 

"  Here  is  my  hand,  Numa,"  said  she.  "  I  forgive 
you  even  as  I  hope  God  will  forgive  the  wrongs  that  I 
have  done." 

Numa  seized  the  hand  joyfully  and  pressed  it  to  his 
lips.  "  You  are  an  angel,  Aline,"  he  cried.  "  When 
you  come  to  church  in  your  new  white  clothes  you  will 
need  but  a  pair  of  wings  to  make  you  more  perfect 
than  any  of  them  in  heaven." 

Aline  smiled  sadly  as  she  again  took  up  the  neglected 
thread  of  her  spinning  wheel.  "  There  will  be  no  new 

283 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

white  dress  when  I  go  to  the  church  with  the  other 
girls,"  said  she.  "  You  will  see  no  angel,  Numa," 

"  No  new  dress  for  your  first  communion?"  cried 
Numa  in  astonishment. 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  answered. 
'  We  are  too  poor  to  buy  one.  I  must  wear  my  old 
white  dress  that  I  have  worn  for  so  long." 

"  But  I  can — "  began  Numa  eagerly  when,  his  face 
lighting  up,  he  suddenly  ceased  speaking  and  endeav 
ored  to  'hide  the  satisfaction  which  his  whole  appearance 
suggested. 

Now  Numa  had  been  about  to  say  that  he  would 
lend  her  the  money,  for  he  had  been  gambling  a  great 
deal  at  the  coffee  house  in  Landry  and  of  late  he  had 
been  lucky,  but  a  thought  suddenly  striking  him  that 
here  might  be  a  chance  for  him  to  gain  the  much- 
coveted  ring  of  Aline,  he  did  not  finish  the  generous 
offer  that  he  had  so  eagerly  commenced. 

"  But  you  can  what,  Numa?  "  asked  Aline,  curious 
at  his  stopping  so  abruptly  in  what  he  was  saying. 

"  I  can  try  and  think  of  some  way  in  which  you  can 
get  the  new  dress,"  replied  Numa  quickly. 

To  this  the  girl  made  no  answer,  and  for  a  while 
the  orchard  was  silent,  save  for  the  low,  deep  hum  of 
the  spinning  wheel.  Numa  sat  with  his  brows  drawn 
together  as  though  he  were  thinking,  shaking  his  head 
from  time  to  time  and  muttering,  "  No,"  as  though  he 
were  rejecting  some  fruitless  plan  that  he  had  made. 

"  Is  there  nothing  that  you  can  sell  to  get  the  money 
for  the  dress?  "  he  asked  finally. 

Aline  shook  her  head.  "  There  is  nothing,"  an- 

284 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

swered  she.  "  We  need  every  poor  thing  that  we 
have." 

Again  Numa  pretended  to  think. 

"  The  ring  that  you  wear  upon  the  chain  about  your 
neck/'  he  began. 

The  girl  turned  upon  him  fiercely,  thrusting  her  hand 
into  her  bosom  where  the  ring  lay  as  though  she  feared 
that  he  would  take  it  from  her. 

u  How  can  you  ask  me  to  sell  my  ring?  "  she  cried. 
"  You  know  that  I  will  never  do  it.'7 

Numa  waved  his  hand  blandly.  "  You  do  not  sup 
pose  that  I  thought  you  would  really  sell  it,  did  you?  " 
asked  he.  "  Of  course  I  knew  that  you  would  not.  I 
mean  that  you  could  sell  it  for  a  little  while — that  you 
could  borrow  the  money  on  this  ring.  There  is  a  man 
in  Landry  who  will  lend  me  the  money  if  I  bring  it  to 
him.  You  are  poor  now,  but  in  a  little  while  Telesse 
will  sell  his  crop  and  you  can  get  it  back  again.  It  will 
be  perfectly  safe,  I  promise  you.  This  is  the  only  good 
plan  that  I  can  think  of.  What  do  you  say,  Aline,  eh?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  good  plan  and  I  will  never  sell  my  ring, 
Numa,"  cried  the  girl  passionately. 

Numa  spread  out  his  hands.  "  Very  well,"  replied 
he.  "  Do  not  be  angry.  I  was  only  trying  to  help 
you.  I  knew  that  you  would  like  to  have  your  ring, 
but  I  thought  that  as  it  was  your  first  communion  you 
would  wish  to  go  to  it  dressed  as  you  should  be." 

For  a  long  time  the  girl  was  silent,  torn  by  the  con 
flicting  emotions  that  were  within  her.  Over  and  over 
again  she  repeated  the  words  which  she  had  heard  so 
long  ago,  the  words  which  she  had  never  forgotten. 

285 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  You  must  keep  this  ring  with  the  chain  always,  and 
you  must  never  show  it  to  any  one  unless  you  are  in  a 
great  deal  of  trouble." 

Was  she  in  trouble,  she  asked  herself.  Should  she 
trust  her  only  keepsake  from  her  dead  father,  her  only 
treasure,  to  the  care  of  some  unknown  one  in  Landry? 
No,  no.  She  would  not  do  it. 

And  then  again  she  asked  herself,  should  she  not 
make  this  sacrifice  that  she  might  go  to  her  first  com 
munion  as  she  ought  to.  Was  it  not  her  duty  to  do 
this  thing,  was  it  not  the  wish  of  God  that  she  should 
do  it?  Was  it  not  one  of  the  sacrifices  that  she  must 
make  to  save  her  soul? 

And  so  she  thought  and  tortured  herself  with  many 
questions  while  the  wicked  Numa  sat  and  smiled  in 
silent  triumph,  for  he  knew  well  that  he  would  have 
his  desire. 

Finally  the  girl  gave  a  little  sigh  of  weariness,  and 
reaching  inside  the  bosom  of  her  dress  brought  forth 
the  ring.  Slowly  she  unclasped  the  chain  that  held  it 
and  slipped  it  into  her  hand.  Looking  at  it  for  a 
moment  she  pressed  it  to  her  lips  and  handed  it  to 
Numa. 

"  Take  it  to  your  friend  and  get  the  money,"  said 
she.  "  It  is  my  duty  to  wear  the  new  dress.  Be  very 
careful  of  the  ring,  Numa,  and  tell  the  man  to  be 
careful  also.  It  is  all  that  I  have  and  I  love  it  dearly. 
Go  now,  and  go  quickly  or  I  shall  take  it  back  again.  I 
cannot  help  it." 

Numa,  who  needed  no  second  bidding,  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  hurried  away. 

286 


ALINE    MAKES    A    SACRIFICE 

"  I  will  bring  you  the  money  to-night,"  he  shouted 
over  his  shoulder. 

Aline  sat  for  a  moment  where  he  had  left  her,  and 
then  she  suddenly  gave  a  little  sob  and  hurried  after 
him. 

"Numa!  Numa !  "  she  cried,  "I  cannot  bear  it. 
Give  me  back  the  ring.  Give  it  back  to  me." 

Around  the  cabin  she  went  and  found  Numa  about 
to  ride  away.  Loudly  she  called  to  him,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  hear  her  and  loped  away  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Slowly  and  sadly  she  went  back  to  the  spinning  wheel, 
and,  laying  her  head  upon  it,  sobbed  as  though  her  heart 
would  break,  while  the  pear  trees  showered  their  snowy 
petals  about  her  as  though  they,  too,  wept  in  sympathy. 


287 


CHAPTER   XVI 

OLD  TELESSE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF 

THE  sun  had  just  raised  its  red  rim  above  the 
mist-covered  stretch  of  the  rice  fields  and  the 
birds  in  the  orchard  were  beginning  to  chatter 
softly  when  Aline  awoke  upon  the  morning  of  her  first 
communion.  Going  over  to  her  little  window  she  stood 
for  a  long  time  gazing  out  at  the  fast-growing  light, 
her  face  radiant  with  peace  and  happiness,  and  then 
as  the  sunbeams  lit  up  the  darkness  with  their  golden 
rays  she  went  stealthily  across  the  room  and  drew 
from  its  hiding  place  in  an  old  cupboard  a  long,  flat 
bundle  wrapped  carefully  in  cottonade. 

Quickly  laying  back  the  coarse  blue  and  yellow  cover 
ing  she  drew  forth  a  soft  mass  of  fleecy  white  and 
spread  it  triumphantly  before  her.  It  was  her  new 
dress,  the  work  of  her  own  hands,  the  dainty  piece  of 
spotless  muslin  for  which  she  had  sacrificed  her  one 
treasure. 

Lovingly  she  fingered  the  snowy  ruffles,  the  long 
silken  ribbons ;  lovingly  yet  timidly  as  though  she  feared 
to  touch  so  delicate  a  thing,  her  eyes  filled  with  a  quiet 
joy  at  the  thought  of  its  fitness  for  the  ceremony  before 
her. 

288 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

"  How  beautiful  it  is,"  she  whispered.  "  How  sur 
prised  Uncle  Telesse  will  be."  But  as  she  stood  smil 
ing  at  the  prospect  of  his  surprise  and  pleasure  her  face 
clouded  and  her  hands  went  up  to  the  chain  about  her 
neck,  for  the  memory  of  what  she  had  lost  came  back 
to  her  in  a  moment  of  her  happiness. 

Ever  since  she  had  given  her  ring  to  Numa  her  mind 
had  been  tortured  with  fears  as  to  its  safety,  fears  which 
the  most  reassuring  stories  from  her  wicked  lover  failed 
to  banish.  In  vain  did  he  tell  her  of  how  the  ring  lay 
safe  and  snug,  tightly  locked  within  the  strong  box  of 
his  friend  at  Landry.  She  would  shake  her  head 
doubtfully. 

"  It  must  be  as  you  say,  but  I  wish  that  I  had  my 
ring  once  more,"  she  would  reply.  "  I  do  not  know 
why  it  is,  but  I  feel  that  I  shall  never  see  it  again. 
Could  you  not  ask  your  friend  to  let  me  have  it  for 
just  a  little  while  that  I  may  see  that  it  is  safe?  For 
only  a  little  while,  Numa,  for  a  day,  an  hour.  I  prom 
ise  you  that  I  will  send  it  back  to  him  again." 

But  Numa  would  only  look  distressed  and  tell  her 
that  such  a  thing  was  impossible,  while  at  that  very 
moment  the  ring  lay  deep  within  his  pocket,  for,  trust 
ing  no  hiding  place,  he  carried  it  with  him  wherever  he 
went. 

And  so  it  was  that  upon  the  morning  of  her  first 
communion,  Aline  in  the  midst  of  her  happiness 
thought  of  what  she  had  paid  for  it,  and  into  the  blue 
eyes  that  gazed  so  admiringly  at  the  new  dress  there 
came  for  a  moment  a  great  longing. 

The  old  man  called  her  as  she  was  wrapping  up  the 

289 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

bundle  again,  and  thrusting  it  hurriedly  into  its  hiding 
place  she  went  out  to  him,  all  blushing  and  confused 
at  her  innocent  deception. 

"  You  are  late  this  morning,  Aline,"  said  he  as  she 
kissed  him.  "  It  does  not  matter,  though,  for  I  will  do 
no  work  to-day.  Go  now  and  get  the  breakfast  while 
I  fix  my  harness  for  our  drive  to  Landry." 

He  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  girl's  confusion,  but 
when  she  had  turned  to  go  to  the  little  kitchen  he  looked 
at  her  curiously,  muttering  to  himself. 

"  Red  cheeks  that  fade  quickly  to  white  arc  evil 
things,"  mumbled  he.  "  Eyes  that  twist  and  turn  away 
tell  of  no  good.  For  seven  days  Aline  has  acted 
queerly.  She  is  keeping  something  from  me  and 
if  to-day  she  does  not  tell  me  what  it  is,  I  will 
ask  her." 

When  a  little  later  he  sat  silent  at  the  breakfast  table, 
his  food  untouched  before  him,  Aline  was  worried. 

"  What  is  it,  Uncle  Telesse?  "  she  asked.  "  Are  you 
not  well?  Why  do  you  look  so  sad?  " 

The  old  man  laughed  mirthlessly,  with  a  poor  effort 
to  appear  indifferent. 

"  It  is  nothing,  Aline,"  replied  he.  "  I  am  quite 
well  and  I  am  happy.  Do  you  not  see  me  laughing? 
Should  I  not  be  happy  upon  the  day  of  your  first 
communion?  " 

"  But  you  have  eaten  nothing,"  persisted  the  girl. 
"  You  have  not  touched  your  breakfast." 

The  old  man  pushed  his  plate  away  and  rose  from 
the  table.  "  I  ate  something  before  you  were  awake," 
said  he.  And  then  before  she  could  question  him  again, 

290 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

he  went  over  to  where  his  coat  hung  upon  a  peg  and 
began  to  fumble  in  one  of  its  pockets. 

Presently  he  returned  with  a  package  which  he 
handed  to  her. 

"  Here  is  something  that  I  have  bought  for  you," 
said  he.  "  It  is  for  your  first  communion." 

Quickly  she  untied  the  package,  a  smile  of  pleased 
surprise  upon  her  pretty  face,  and  drawing  forth  its  con 
tents  she  laid  them  upon  the  table  before  her — a  small 
black  prayerbook,  a  rosary  made  of  tiny  glass  beads, 
and  a  long  yellow  candle  tied  about  with  white  ribbon. 

The  old  man  stood  beside  her  watching  her  closely, 
a  quizzical  look  upon  his  wrinkled  face.  With  a  little 
cry  of  pleasure  the  girl  reached  up  her  arms  and  draw 
ing  him  down  toward  her  kissed  him  tenderly. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you,  Uncle  Telesse,"  she  cried. 
"  It  is  so  good  of  you  to  give  me  these  things  when  we 
have  so  little  money." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  It  is  not 
enough,"  said  he.  "  You  should  have  the  new  dress 
such  as  the  other  girls  will  wear.  I  have  tried  hard  to 
get  the  money,  but  I  can  find  no  one  to  lend  it  to  me. 
I  am  sorry,  Aline,  very  sorry,  but  I  could  do  no  better." 

The  girl  stroked  his  cheek  softly  and  turned  her  face 
away  that  he  might  not  see  her  look  of  triumph.  "  Do 
not  think  of  the  dress,"  she  replied,  "  for  I  shall  be 
very  happy  to  go  as  I  am.  And  just  think  of  how  proud 
I  shall  be  of  my  new  prayerbook  and  beads.  I  am 
sure  that  none  of  the  other  girls  will  have  any  as  nice 
and  as  pretty  as  mine  are." 

The  old  man.  patted  her  upon  the  head  and  for  the 

291 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

first  time  that  day  his  face  lost  its  troubled  look.  "  You 
are  a  good  girl,  Aline,"  said  he,  "  and  you  are  bearing 
your  disappointment  bravely.  It  is  a  pity  that  there 
are  not  more  like  you  in  the  world.  Go  now  and  put 
on  the  old  dress,  for  le  Pere  Bertrand  has  said  that 
he  wishes  all  of  the  children  to  come  early  to  the 
church." 

"  I  shall  be  ready  in  a  very  little  while,"  said  Aline 
as  she  went  to  her  room,  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles 
at  the  thought  of  how  surprised  the  old  man  would  be 
when  he  saw  her  again. 

Old  Telesse  went  out  to  the  little  stable  behind  the 
cabin  and  took  down  his  harness  from  the  wall.  Going 
back  to  the  cabin  he  seated  himself  in  the  doorway  and 
fell  busily  to  work  upon  a  broken  strap,  knitting  his 
brows  from  time  to  time  as  though  he  were  thinking 
deeply. 

Before  him  the  rice  stretched  away,  an  undulating  sea 
of  green,  to  the  edge  of  the  distant  forest.  Thick  and 
rank  it  lay,  slowly  waving  in  the  breeze,  rustling  softly 
— cut  after  cut  of  rippling  blades  and  long,  slender 
stalks  from  which  the  newly  born  grain  was  bursting 
joyously,  for  the  rice  was  in  the  boot  and  the  pale  green 
heads  were  beginning  to  peep  forth  cautiously  from  the 
close  embrace  of  their  protecting  leaves. 

The  air  was  heavy  with  the  coarse,  rank  odor  of  the 
stagnant  water  that  filled  the  cuts  almost  to  overflowing, 
while  a  vast  assemblage  of  cranes  and  herons  flapped 
lazily  overhead  or  stalked  in  solemn  dignity  along  the 
levees.  The  old  man  gazed  at  the  big,  long-necked 
birds  and  smiled  with  satisfaction,  for  well  he  knew 

292 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

that  they  were  in  search  of  crawfish — the  tiny  nuisance 
to  the  rice  planter,  who  bores  his  tunnels  through  the 
walls  of  the  levees  and  lets  out  from  the  cuts  the  water 
which  it  has  taken  so  much  trouble  to  put  there. 

From  afar  came  the  muffled  report  of  a  gun,  and  a 
great  cloud  of  birds  showed  for  a  moment  against  the 
blue  of  the  sky,  driven  by  some  watchful  keeper  from 
their  feast  of  stolen  grain.  A  straggling  line  of  boys 
moved  shoulder  deep  through  the  heavy  stools  of  rice, 
pulling  out  the  tall  indigo  plants  whose  delicate  tops 
showed  pale  and  feathery  in  the  sunlight. 

A  water  tender  walked  slowly  along  the  levee,  eyeing 
it  critically,  testing  the  little  dams  that  he  had  made 
with  his  long-handled  shovel. 

The  old  man  heard  a  step  inside  the  cabin  and  turn 
ing  quickly  stared  in  speechless  astonishment,  for  there 
before  him  stood  Aline,  radiant  and  smiling,  clad  in 
the  spotless  white  of  her  first  communion  dress. 

A  wreath  of  snowy  flowers  encircled  the  glossy  dark 
ness  of  her  hair  and  in  her  hands  she  held  the  prayer- 
book,  the  rosary  and  the  long  yellow  candle  with  its 
silken  ribbon.  As  she  stood  in  the  dark,  poorly  fur 
nished  room,  her  happy,  peaceful  face  smiling  through 
the  gauzy  folds  of  the  veil  that  fell  softly  about  it,  she 
seemed  some  beautiful  creature  from  another  world 
come  down  for  a  moment  to  glorify  this  earth  with  her 
presence. 

The  old  man  pointed  a  trembling  finger  toward  her. 
"That  dress,  Aline!"  he  cried.  "Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

She  laughed  at  him  teasingly.  "  Ah,  can  you  guess, 

293 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Uncle  Telesse?  "  she  asked.     "  Is  it  not  pretty?    Are 
you  not  surprised?  " 

The  old  man  did  not  seem  to  hear  her.  "  So  that  is 
what  you  have  been  hiding  from  me,"  said  he.  "  Where 
did  you  get  that  dress,  Aline?  Did  M'sieu  Gordon 
give  it  to  you?  " 

There  was  something  in  his  voice  that  caused  the 
smile  to  leave  her  face,  that  caused  her  lip  to  tremble 
and  the  tears  to  start  to  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  Uncle  Telesse,"  she  cried.  "  How  strangely 
you  speak.  I  thought  that  you  would  be  so  happy,  so 
surprised,  and  instead  you  are  angry.  Why  do  you 
ask  if  M'sieu  Gordon  gave  me  the  dress,  when  you  must 
know  well  that  he  did  not?  " 

The  happiness  was  all  gone  from  her  face  and  her 
eyes  were  piteous. 

"  But  the  dress,  Aline?"  the  old  man  persisted. 
"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

Very  slowly  she  came  over  to  him  and,  standing  in 
the  doorway,  told  him  all  about  it.  Told  him  of  her 
sacrifice,  of  her  longing  for  her  ring,  of  her  work  upon 
the  dress  at  night  after  he  had  fallen  asleep,  of  her 
happiness  at  the  thought  of  his  glad  surprise,  of  her 
disappointment  at  the  way  he  had  spoken  to  her,  while 
he  listened  in  silence,  a  little  smile  of  satisfaction  lurk 
ing  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

When  she  had  finished  he  rose  and  kissed  her,  his  eyes 
beaming  with  love  and  affection. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Aline,  and  I  did  wrong  to 
mistrust  you,"  said  he.  "  I  should  have  known  that 
you  did  not  get  the  dress  from  M'sieu  Gordon." 

294 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

"  But  why  should  M'sieu  Gordon  give  me  the 
dress?  "  she  asked  wonderingly. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  You  would  not 
understand  if  I  were  to  tell  you,"  answered  he.  "  You 
are  as  a  child,  Aline,  and  you  know  nothing  of  the  world. 
You  are  young  and  beautiful,  fit  to  be  the  mistress  of 
the  big  house  over  there  among  the  oak  trees,  yet  you 
are  but  a  poor  Cajun  girl  upon  M'sieu  Gordon's 
plantation.  He  is  your  master  and  you  are  his  servant. 
He  seems  to  have  taken  a  great  interest  in  you,  and  it 
has  worried  me,  but  I  will  worry  no  more,  for  you  are 
a  good  girl  and  I  can  trust  you.  And  so  you  gave  up 
your  ring  that  you  might  have  a  new  dress  for  your 
first  communion?  That  was  brave  in  you  and  I  am 
pleased  and  happy  at  what  you  have  done.  But  we 
must  get  back  the  ring.  It  would  never  do  to  lose  it. 
I  will  see  Numa  about  it  to-day  and  will  get  the 
money  from  M'sieu  Gordon,  who  I  am  sure  will  not 
refuse  me." 

The  girl  gazed  at  him  with  shining  eyes.  "  Oh, 
Uncle  Telesse,"  she  cried.  "  Will  I  really  get  back  my 
ring  to-day?  I  shall  be  the  happiest  girl  in  all  this 
world." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  I  promise  you.  And 
now  I  must  go  and  harness  the  horse,  or  we  shall  be 
late  at  Landry." 

Picking  up  the  mended  strap  he  went  out  to  the  stable 
leaving  the  girl  behind  him,  a  picture  of  quiet  beauty 
framed  in  the  heavy  timbers  of  the  doorway. 

And  so  it  was  that  presently  they  set  out  upon  their 
journey  in  the  old  man's  jumper  and  went  out  past 

295 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  waving  fields  of  rice  to  the  public  road,  where  they 
met  a  long  string  of  vehicles  making  their  way  through 
the  heavy  dust  clouds  toward  Landry.  Falling  into  line 
with  the  rest  they  came  finally  to  the  little  town  where 
the  broad  streets  were  thronged  with  people  and  the 
various  conveyances  that  had  brought  them  there. 

So  crowded  indeed  were  the  streets  that  the  old  man 
was  obliged  to  drive  on  past  the  church  and  almost  to 
Dr.  Lemaire's  drug  store  before  he  could  find  a  place 
to  tie  his  horse.  Having  found  a  gap  between  two 
jumpers  he  made  the  pony  fast  and  started  back  toward 
the  church,  the  girl  walking  by  his  side. 

As  they  were  passing  the  coffee  house  of  Old  Pierre 
a  man  darted  quickly  through  the  opening  in  the  high 
white  fence  and  entered  the  building. 

Aline  gave  a  little  cry.  "  See,  Uncle  Telesse,  there 
is  Numa,"  said  she  eagerly.  u  Go  inside  and  ask  him 
for  my  ring,  and  I  will  wait  for  you  here." 

The  old  man  started  away  obediently.  "  I  will  be 
back  in  a  moment,"  said  he.  "  We  are  late." 

He  was  indeed  late,  for  the  people  were  pouring  into 
the  church  in  a  great  stream  and  the  street  was  almost 
deserted. 

Within  the  coffee  house  he  met  Numa,  drunk  and 
surly  and  dressed  in  a  wonderful  array  of  gaudy  cloth 
ing,  the  center  of  a  group  of  young  men  from  the 
prairie.  The  old  man  went  up  to  him  and  drew  him 
aside. 

"  There  is  something  I  wish  to  ask  you  about, 
Numa,"  he  said. 

Numa  answered  him  sullenly.  "  Well,  what  is  it?  " 

296 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

growled  he.  "  Speak  quickly,  for  I  wish  to  get  back 
to  my  friends  again." 

"  Aline  told  me  this  morning  of  how  you  got  her 
ring  away  from  her  so  that  she  could  buy  her  first 
communion  dress,"  answered  the  old  man.  "  I  want 
the  ring  back,  Numa." 

Numa  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Have  you  the 
money  to  pay  to  the  man  who  has  it  in  keeping?" 
he  asked. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  You  are  the  man 
who  has  it  in  keeping,"  replied  he.  u  Give  me  the  ring, 
Numa." 

Numa's  face  flushed  angrily.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  saying  that  I  have  it?"  he  cried.  "  You  lie  when 
you  say  so.  What  should  I  want  with  it?  " 

Again  the  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  You  know 
that  you  have  the  ring,  Numa,"  said  he  doggedly. 
"  You  took  it  for  some  bad  purpose  of  your  own.  You 
know  that  it  is  the  only  keepsake  that  Aline  has  from 
her  dead  father,  and  that  she  prizes  it  more  than  any 
thing  else  in  all  this  world.  You  do  not  know  how 
much  she  wants  it.  She  would  never  have  parted  with  it 
if  she  had  not  thought  that  it  was  her  duty  to  do  so. 
Will  you  not  give  me  the  ring  for  her  sake?  Will  you 
not  make  her  happy,  Numa,  on  this  the  day  of  her  first 
communion?  " 

For  a  moment  Numa  did  not  answer,  while  the 
significance  of  the  old  man's  words  penetrated  his 
liquor-clouded  brain. 

Suddenly  he  smiled  triumphantly.  "  No,"  he  cried. 
"  I  will  not.  So  this  ring  was  her  father's,  was  it? 

297 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Now  that  I  know  this  I  promise  you  that  she  will  never 
see  it  again." 

He  turned  away  toward  his  companions. 

The  old  man  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  Wait,  Numa,"  said  he.  "  You  must  give  Aline  back 
her  ring.  If  you  do  not  I  shall  tell  her  of  all  your 
wickedness  and  drunkenness  and  of  the  lies  that  you 
told  to  get  it  away  from  her." 

Numa  turned  upon  him  fiercely.  "  If  you  tell  her 
that  I  will  tell  something  that  I  know,"  replied  he 
meaningly. 

The  old  man's  face  went  white,  but  he  answered  him 
bravely.  "  You  may  tell,  Numa,"  said  he,  "  Aline  must 
have  her  ring.  There  is  a  reason  why  she  should." 

He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  well  knowing  that  to 
argue  further  was  useless. 

Numa  barred  his  way.  "  You  will  not  tell  her," 
cried  he  furiously.  "  Do  you  hear?  You  will  not  tell 
her.  I  will  make  you  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

The  old  man  attempted  to  pass  him.  "  I  will  tell 
her,"  he  answered.  "  You  cannot  stop  me." 

With  a  cry  of  rage  Numa  sprang  upon  him  and  bore 
him  to  the  ground. 

"  I  will  choke  the  breath  out  of  you,  you  old  fool!  " 
he  shouted,  grasping  for  the  old  man's  throat. 

Telesse  fought  him  weakly.  "  Send  for  Pere  Ber- 
trand,"  he  gasped,  "  or  Numa  will  kill  me." 

Two  men  seized  Numa  and  strove  to  drag  him  from 
the  body  of  his  victim.  He  fought  and  kicked  at  them 
desperately,  one  hand  still  groping  for  the  old  man's 
throat. 

298 


OLD    TELESSE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF 

Old  Pierre  hobbled  outside  wringing  his  hands  and 
calling  for  help.  In  the  road  near  the  coffee  house 
stood  Aline  waiting  patiently  for  the  old  man's  return, 
her  eyes  cast  wistfully  toward  the  church,  the  steps  of 
which  were  now  crowded  with  the  overflow  from  inside. 

Old  Pierre  called  to  her  shrilly.  "  Run  quickly  for 
Pere  Bertrand,"  he  cried.  "  Numa  is  choking  Telesse, 
and  we  can  do  nothing  with  him." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  before 
Aline  was  speeding  down  the  dusty  road,  running 
blindly  toward  the  church,  her  cry  of  terror  falling 
loudly  upon  the  silence  of  the  deserted  street.  Once 
she  stumbled  and  fell,  but  she  was  upon  her  feet  again 
in  an  instant  and  sped  on  breathlessly  toward  the  great 
yellow  building  before  her. 


299 


CHAPTER   XVII 

FATHER   BERTRAND   LOSES    HIS   TEMPER 

MEANWHILE,  within  the  church  a  vast 
assemblage  had  gathered  together.  A  vast 
assemblage  of  fathers,  of  mothers,  of  friends 
who  had  come  for  miles  around  to  see  their  loved  ones 
go  for  the  first  time  to  holy  communion. 

They  filled  the  seats,  they  packed  the  broad  aisles 
and  the  great  open  space  behind  the  long  rows  of  pews; 
yet  outside  there  were  many  who  could  find  no  place  to 
stand  or  kneel  and  must  wait  there  patiently  in  the  sun 
light  until  the  great  ceremony  was  over. 

Far  up  in  the  front  pews  near  the  altar  sat  the 
communicants — the  girls  upon  the  right  side,  the  boys 
upon  the  left:  two  great  blots  of  white  and  black,  all 
streaked  and  colored  with  the  light  from  the  stained- 
glass  windows.  Behind  them  sat  the  smiling,  happy 
mothers,  the  proud  fathers,  the  multitude  of  friends, 
all  of  them  dressed  to  a  state  of  misery;  conversing 
in  hoarse  whispers,  nodding  encouragingly  toward  the 
front  pews,  gazing  expectantly  toward  the  sacristy  for 
the  coming  of  Father  Bertrand. 

High  up  in  the  choir  sat  Le  Bossu,  his  white  face 
peering  above  the  railing  in  search  of  the  absent  Aline. 

300 


FATHER  BERTRAND  LOSES   HIS  TEMPER 

Every  now  and  then  there  would  be  a  movement  in  the 
crowded  aisle  below  him  and  the  little  man  would  lean 
forward  eagerly  only  to  sink  back  in  bitter  disappoint 
ment. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  he  kept  repeating.  "  She 
must  be  with  the  other  girls  in  front."  And  then  he 
would  stare  again  at  the  white  mass  of  communicants 
until  his  eyes  were  blurred  and  dim. 

A  sudden  hush  fell  upon  the  congregation,  and  the 
little  man  looking  before  him  saw  a  long,  red  line  of 
acolytes  entering  the  chancel.  Behind  them  came 
Father  Bertrand  clad  in  a  gorgeous  robe  of  bright, 
shimmering  gold. 

The  organ  rumbled,  the  acolytes  stood  in  a  great 
half-circle.  Father  Bertrand  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
altar.  The  people  rose  to  their  feet. 

Suddenly  Le  Bossu  heard  a  stir  in  the  crowd  and  he 
leaned  far  over  the  rail  with  a  cry,  for  there  in  the  aisle 
below  him  the  people  were  falling  away  upon  either 
side  to  make  a  narrow  lane  through  which  a  white, 
terror-stricken  figure  was  rushing  madly  toward  the 
altar. 

It  was  Aline,  her  dress  torn  and  dirty  from  her  fall, 
her  veil  streaming  out  behind  her,  breathless  and  pant 
ing  and  nearly  spent  from  her  long  run  to  the  church. 
On  she  went  between  the  two  staring  lines  of  people 
until  she  came  to  the  chancel  steps,  and  there  she  fell  in 
a  white  heap  utterly  exhausted. 

"Pere  Bertrand,"  she  gasped,  "  hurry  to  the  coffee 
house  and  save  my  uncle,  for  Nurna  is  killing  him. 
Hurry,  hurry,  mon  Perey  if  you  would  save  him." 

301 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

She  gave  a  little  sigh  and  the  church  went  black 
before  her. 

For  a  moment  Father  Bertrand  gazed  at  her  in 
astonishment,  and  then  he  plucked  the  golden  robe  from 
off  him  and  laid  it  on  the  altar.  Out  through  the  little 
chancel  gate  he  strode  and  down  the  crowded  aisle 
where  the  people  fell  back  against  the  pews  to  let  him 
pass,  and  stared  breathlessly  at  his  set  face  and  glow 
ing  eyes.  Monsieur  Landry  and  a  little  group  of 
the  older  men  hurried  out  behind  him  in  great 
excitement. 

Down  the  road  they  went,  Father  Bertrand  walking 
before  them,  his  white  robes  flapping  wildly  in  the 
breeze. 

When  at  last  they  came  to  the  coffee  house  they  found 
the  furious  Numa  struggling  wildly  in  the  grip  of  the 
men  who  held  him.  In  a  corner  of  the  room  the  old 
man  lay  silent,  his  eyes  closed,  his  face  white,  his  clothes 
all  disheveled  and  torn.  Beside  him  knelt  Old  Pierre 
trying  vainly  to  force  some  brandy  between  his  clenched 
teeth. 

Father  Bertrand  went  up  to  the  men  who  held  the 
struggling  Numa  and  waved  them  aside. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  he.     "  I  will  attend  to  him." 

They  let  him  go  willingly,  for  he  had  handled  them 
roughly  in  his  efforts  to  break  their  hold. 

No  sooner  was  Numa  free  than  he  made  a  rush 
toward  the  silent  figure  in  the  corner.  Father  Ber 
trand  seized  him  by  the  collar  and  spun  him  around  as 
a  child  does  a  top. 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  he  cried.  "  Would  you  kill  this 

302 


FATHER   BERTRAND   LOSES   HIS  TEMPER 

old  man?  You  coward.  You  low,  brutal  coward,  to 
strike  one  so  old  and  feeble." 

He  flung  the  man  from  him  with  a  force  that  sent 
him  staggering  against  the  wall. 

With  a  cry  Numa  sprang  toward  the  priest.  "  You 
go  too  far,  Pere  Bertrand,"  raged  he  furiously.  "  You 
are  a  priest  I  know,  but  you  shall  not  turn  me  from  my 
purpose  to-day.  Stand  aside  or  I  will  strike  you." 

He  dashed  forward  again  as  he  spoke,  his  mouth 
foaming,  his  eyes  wild  and  bloodshot,  mad  with  rage 
and  from  the  liquor  that  he  had  been  drinking. 

Father  Bertrand  seized  his  arm  as  he  drew  it  back 
to  strike  him  and  pinned  it  to  his  side.  In  a  moment 
more  he  had  seized  the  other  arm  also,  and  bringing  his 
great  strength  to  bear  upon  Numa  he  forced  him  slowly 
to  his  knees. 

Suddenly  he  let  go  his  hold  and  stood  above  the  kneel 
ing  man  in  silent,  white-faced  anger,  his  hands  clenched, 
his  eyes  blazing. 

"  Kneel  there  and  ask  God  to  forgive  you  for  what 
you  have  done,"  he  thundered.  "  If  you  attempt  to 
rise  I  will  strike  you  to  the  ground  again.  I  am  a 
priest  of  God,  I  know,  but  I  am  also  a  man.  You  have 
attempted  to  strike  me  and  it  is  given  to  every  one  to 
defend  himself." 

For  an  instant  Numa  seemed  about  to  rise  in  furious 
anger,  but  the  eye  of  the  priest  was  upon  him,  cold  and 
hard  and  unmerciful,  and  he  slowly  bowed  his  head, 
while  the  anger  left  his  face  and  was  replaced  by  a  look 
of  deepest  shame. 

Father  Bertrand,  seeing  this,  relaxed  his  set  muscles 

303 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  drew  a  deep  breath,  for  he  knew  that  the  man 
before  him  was  conquered. 

"  At  last  you  have  come  to  your  senses,  Numa,"  said 
he.  "  Pray  to  God  to  forgive  you,  for  you  have  been 
very  wicked." 

Numa  raised  a  white,  penitent  face  for  an  instant  and 
humbly  bowed  his  head,  for  he  could  not  stand  the 
cold,  piercing  gaze  of  the  man  before  him. 

"  And  you,  mon  Pere"  he  pleaded,  "  will  you  for 
give  me  ?  I  must  have  been  mad,  crazy.  It  is  the  liquor 
and  my  bad  temper,  mon  Pere,  that  does  it.  Forgive 
me,  for  I  knew  not  what  I  was  doing." 

Father  Bertrand  pointed  toward  the  open  door. 
"  Go,"  said  he,  "  for  I  cannot  forgive  you  now.  You 
have  made  me  too  angry.  Come  to  me  to-morrow  when 
my  anger  has  gone,  and  I  will  forgive  you.  But  go  now 
before  I  forget  that  I  am  a  priest  of  God  and 
inflict  upon  you  the  punishment  which  you  richly 
deserve." 

He  paused,  his  great  frame  shaking  with  suppressed 
rage,  his  breath  coming  short  and  hard  in  his  anger. 

Again  Numa  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  the  priest 
entreatingly. 

Father  Bertrand  shook  his  head.  "  Go,"  said  he 
once  more. 

Numa  crawled  to  his  feet  and  slunk  out  of  the  coffee 
house  a  trembling,  shame-faced  creature  that  crept 
through  the  great  crowd  that  had  gathered  in  the  road 
with  drooping  head  and  downcast  eyes.  No  one 
touched  him  or  spoke  to  him  as  he  went  along,  the 
people  shrinking  from  him  as  though  he  were  stricken 

304 


FATHER   BERTRAND  LOSES   HIS  TEMPER 

with  the  plague,  and  when  he  came  to  where  his  horse 
was  tied  he  mounted  him  and  rode  away  unmolested 
toward  the  west  where  the  Grand  Woods  stretched 
across  the  horizon  in  a  long  black  line. 

Meanwhile,  Father  Bertrand  having  conquered  the 
furious  Numa  now  turned  his  attention  to  the  innocent 
victim  of  his  wrath. 

The  old  man  had  regained  consciousness  and  was 
seated  at  one  of  the  tables  in  the  card  room  where 
Monsieur  Landry  strove  with  poor  success  to  straighten 
his  torn,  rumpled  clothes. 

"  He  is  all  right  again,  mon  Pere,"  cried  the  store 
keeper  brightly.  "  Numa  only  succeeded  in  choking 
him  unconscious  before  they  pulled  him  away.  I  was 
afraid  at  first  that  he  had  killed  him." 

Father  Bertrand  laid  his  hand  kindly  upon  the  old 
man's  shoulder.  "  I  am  indeed  glad,  Telesse,  that  you 
are  not  badly  hurt,"  said  he.  "  What  was  the  cause  of 
the  trouble  between  Numa  and  yourself?  " 

"  It  was  nothing,  mon  Pere,"  answered  the  old  man 
evasively.  "  It  was  only  a  few  words  that  I  said  about 
some  land." 

He  spoke  hurriedly  and  his  face  was  troubled,  for 
Aline  had  told  him  of  what  her  father  had  said  to  her 
so  many  years  ago  and  he  did  not  wish  the  story  of  the 
ring  to  become  public  property. 

"  What  was  it  that  you  said  to  Numa  about  the 
land?"  asked  Monsieur  Landry. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  violently.  "  I  do  not 
remember  what  it  was,"  answered  he.  "  I  have  for 
gotten  it." 

305 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Monsieur  Landry  was  puzzled.  "  But  if  you  have 
Numa  arrested  for  what  he  has  done  you  will  have  to 
remember  what  the  quarrel  was  about  so  that  you  can 
tell  the  judge,"  he  persisted. 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  weakly  and  hobbled 
to  the  door.  "  I  am  not  going  to  have  Numa  arrested," 
said  he.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  see  the  judge.  I  am  going 
to  find  Aline,  for  she  will  be  worried  about  me." 

Monsieur  Landry  looked  at  Father  Bertrand  signifi 
cantly  as  he  followed  the  old  man  out  of  the  card  room. 
"  There  is  more  to  this  than  I  suspected,"  he  whispered. 

As  he  was  passing  through  the  bar  his  foot  struck 
upon  something  hard,  and  picking  it  up  he  thrust  it 
absently  into  his  pocket,  his  eyes  fixed  curiously  upon 
the  aged  figure  before  him. 

The  crowd  in  the  road  cheered  lustily  as  the  old  man 
came  out  of  the  doorway,  and  a  white  figure  shot  sud 
denly  forward  to  seize  him  with  a  cry  of  joy. 

It  was  Aline,  her  face  all  white  and  drawn  with  the 
pain  and  anxiety  of  her  waiting. 

"  Ah,  Uncle  Telesse,  are  you  very  badly  hurt?  "  she 
cried,  holding  the  old  man  fearfully.  "  They  told  me  at 
first  that  you  were  dead,  and  I  thought  that  my  heart 
would  break.  How  could  Numa  have  been  so 
wicked?" 

The  old  man. soothed  her  with  many  tender  pats  and 
caresses.  "  Do  not  fear,  Aline,"  answered  he.  u  Numa 
did  not  hurt  me.  I  am  only  a  little  bruised  and  shaken, 
that  is  all." 

Again  the  crowd  cheered  and  Father  Bertrand  held 
up  his  hand  for  silence. 

306 


FATHER   BERTRAND  LOSES   HIS  TEMPER 

"  God  is  good,"  said  he,  u  for  he  has  spared  this  old 
man's  life  even  as  he  will  punish  the  wicked  one  who 
sought  to  take  it.  It  is  an  awful  thing,  my  children,  to 
see  a  young  man  strike  an  old  one,  so  awful  that  it 
caused  me  to  do  something  to-day  that  I  have  not  done 
since  I  have  been  a  priest.  It  caused  me  to  lose  my 
temper.  I  know  that  it  was  wrong  for  me  to  do  so,  but 
I  could  not  help  it,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  all  forgive 
me  as  I  am  going  to  ask  God  to  forgive  me  in  my 
prayers.  Be  as  lenient  with  me  as  you  can,  my  children, 
and  remember  that  although  I  am  a  priest  I  am  a  man 
also,  and  that  I  cannot  witness  unmoved  such  a  sight 
as  I  saw  to-day. 

"  We  will  go  back  now  and  continue  the  mass  that 
Numa  has  committed  such  a  sacrilege  in  disturbing." 

He  turned  away  toward  the  church  as  he  spoke  and 
the  people  followed  behind  him  in  a  great  crowd,  Aline 
and  the  old  man  going  along  with  the  rest. 

And  so  they  all  went  back  into  the  church  again, 
the  organ  rolled  and  the  acolytes  trooped  into  the 
chancel  once  more.  Again  Father  Bertrand  followed 
behind  them  in  his  golden  robes  and  again  the  people 
rose  to  their  feet  as  the  singers  in  the  choir  chanted 
their  responses,  while  far  back  in  a  pew  near  the  door 
Monsieur  Landry  pondered  deeply  upon  the  old  man's 
clemency  toward  Numa. 

"  I  would  give  something  pretty  to  know  the  cause  of 
their  trouble,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  Telesse  was  try 
ing  to  deceive  me  when  he  said  that  it  was  on  account 
of  some  land." 

Suddenly  he  remembered  that  he  had  picked  up  some- 

307 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

thing  in  the  bar,  and  reaching  down  into  his  pocket  he 
drew  it  forth  and  looked  at  it  curiously. 

It  was  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble — the  ring  that 
Numa  had  dropped  from  its  hiding  place  in  his  strug 
gles  to  reach  the  old  man. 

Monsieur  Landry  turned  it  about  in  his  hands  and 
gazed  at  it  for  a  long  time. 

"If  you  could  only  speak  you  would  tell  me  all  that 
I  wish  to  know,"  was  his  comment  as  he  finally  thrust 
it  back  into  his  pocket  again. 


308 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

IT  was  upon  a  bright  morning  in  the  early  summer, 
some  seven  days  after  the  events  narrated  in  the 
last  chapter  that  the  quiet  of  the  big  house  at 
Belrive  was  disturbed  by  a  most  unusual  hurry  and 
bustle.  The  great  hall  upstairs  was  noisy  with  the 
pattering  of  footsteps  and  the  incessant  babble  of  girlish 
voices,  while  from  the  back  steps  there  came  the  heavy 
bumping  of  some  ponderous  object  borne  slowly  to  the 
lower  floor,  mingled  with  the  sullen  growling  of  Uncle 
Bill,  who  declared  that  the  trunk  must  have  been 
loaded  with  brick  for  the  sole  purpose  of  increasing  his 
labors. 

And  had  one  been  curious  enough  to  investigate  he 
would  have  found  that  this  disturbance  even  extended 
into  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  kitchen  where  Aunt 
Felonise  was  preparing  a  tremendous  lunch,  for  at 
twelve  o'clock  that  day  Marjorie  Gordon  and  her  friend 
Miss  Lawrence  were  to  start  upon  a  journey  to  the 
seashore,  and  Belrive  was  striving  its  utmost  to  give 
due  honor  to  their  departure.  For  three  days  there 
had  been  a  marvelous  amount  of  preparation  and  now 
the  final  arrangements  had  been  made,  the  last  trunk 

309 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

had  been  packed,  and  all  that  remained  was  the  long 
drive  to  Mouton  where  the  two  fair  travelers  were  to 
start  upon  their  journey. 

In  her  sunny  room  upstairs  Marjorie  clicked  together 
the  clasps  of  her  bulging  valise  and  arose  from  the  task 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  There,"  said  she,  u  it's  over  at  last,  thank  heavens, 
and  all  that  we  have  to  do  now  is  to  wait  until  train 
time.  Aren't  you  glad,  Julia?" 

Miss  Lawrence  from  her  seat  by  the  window  said 
that  she  was.  "  But  I  do  hate  to  leave  Belrive,"  she 
added,  smiling  rather  wistfully. 

"  Every  one  hates  to  see  you  go  also,"  said  Mar 
jorie,  "  and  there  will  be  a  general  rejoicing  when  you 
come  back  Christmas.  I  think  that  I'll  write  a  note 
before  we  go  down  to  lunch,"  she  added,  going  over 
to  her  desk. 

"  To  Mr.  Bayne?  "  inquired  Miss  Lawrence. 

Marjorie  blushed.  "  Yes,"  answered  she,  u  I  want 
to  send  him  my  address,  you  know.  He  has  promised 
to  write  me  all  the  home  news." 

This  last  was  said  very  indifferently. 

Miss  Lawrence  looked  out  of  the  window.  Mar- 
jorie's  pen  scratched  over  the  paper. 

Suddenly  Miss  Lawrence  gave  a  little  jump  and  a 
smile  hovered  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  Don't  you  expect  to  see  Mr.  Bayne  before  you 
leave?  "  she  asked. 

Marjorie  turned  upon  her  a  disappointed  face  drawn 
up  into  an  angry  frown. 

"  No,"  answered  she,  "  I  do  not  Tom  doesn't 

310 


MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

seem  to  be  very  much  interested  in  my  going  away.  I 
have  a  great  mind  to  tear  up  this  note  and  not  send 
him  my  address  at  all." 

Miss  Lawrence  nodded.  "  If  I  were  you  I  would 
tear  it  up  myself,"  said  she. 

Instantly  Marjorie  became  aggressive.  "  I  would 
like  to  know  what  makes  you  say  that,"  she  cried. 

"  Look  out  of  the  window,"  commanded  Miss 
Lawrence. 

Marjorie  looked  and  saw  Tom  Bayne  riding  slowly 
up  the  avenue  of  trees,  a  picture  of  utter  dejection. 
Instantly  she  was  all  smiles  and  good  humor,  arranging 
her  dress  and  hair  with  many  little  pats  and  pulls/ and 
dancing  about  the  room  in  a  flurry  of  excitement. 

"  Now  be  sure  and  come  right  down,  Julia,"  said  she 
as  she  hurried  from  the  room. 

Miss  Lawrence  looked  after  her  with  a  smile  of 
amusement.  "  I  shall  do  just  as  you  asked  me  to,  my 
dear,  and  stay  where  I  am,"  said  she. 

At  the  front  door  Marjorie  met  Tom  Bayne,  the  look 
of  happiness  upon  her  face  having  now  changed  to  one 
of  great  demureness. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you  off,"  he  announced,  "  and 
I  am  going  to  invite  myself  to  luncheon  and  a  seat  in 
the  surrey  to  Mouton  and  back,  so  you  will  have  to 
put  up  with  me  whether  you  want  to  or  not." 

"  That  will  be  nice,"  replied  Marjorie.  "  The  drive 
to  Mouton  is  always  tiresome  and  we  shall  be  glad  to 
have  you,  Tom.  Aren't  you  going  to  miss  Julia, 
though?" 

"  I  guess  I'll  miss  some  one  else  a  whole  lot  more 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

than  I  will  her,"  said  Tom,  casting  a  beseeching  look  at 
Marjorie. 

That  young  lady  smiled.  "  Of  course  you've  got  to 
say  that  out  of  politeness,"  replied  she. 

Tom  looked  indignant.  "  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way 
at  all  and  you  know  that  I  didn't,"  said  he.  "  I  don't 
expect  to  come  back  to  Belrive  again  until  you  come 
back  yourself,  and  that  won't  be  for " 

"  Two  months,"  smiled  Marjorie. 

Tom  groaned,  for  he  was  desperate.  Ever  since  he 
had  heard  that  Marjorie  was  going  away  he  had  pic 
tured  to  himself  the  attentions  that  she  would  receive 
in  the  little  summer  colony  where  she  was  to  visit  Miss 
Lawrence,  and  the  picture  of  these  attentions  had  been 
a  perpetual  torment  to  him.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  only  course  left  open  to  him  was  to  declare  his 
love  before  Marjorie  left  and  so  win  or  lose  her. 

He  had  nerved  himself  that  morning  to  speak  to  her 
and  had  repeated  a  carefully  made  speech  during  his 
entire  journey  to  Belrive,  but  now  that  he  was  with  her 
his  courage  failed  him  and  he  could  not  think  of  a  word 
that  he  had  intended  to  say.  The  fact  that  this  was 
his  last  opportunity  only  made  the  matter  worse  and 
he  sat  for  a  while  in  silence,  divided  between  anger  and 
despair. 

Finally  he  gathered  together  the  remnants  of  his 
courage  and  made  a  feeble  attempt. 

"  There  is  something  that  I  want  to  tell  you  before 
you  leave,  Marjorie,"  said  he. 

Marjorie  looked  at  him  with  a  fair  attempt  at  curi 
osity.  "  What  is  it?  "  she  asked. 

312 


MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

Tom  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  and  fastened  his 
eyes  upon  a  spot  on  the  floor. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,"  began  he,  "  that  I " 

Marjorie  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry.  "  Oh, 
Tom,"  said  she,  "  isn't  that  Carey  coming  through  the 
gate?" 

Tom  looked  out  before  him.  "  Yes,  it  Is,"  he  replied 
slowly. 

Marjorie  sank  back  into  her  seat  again.  "  I'm  so 
glad  that  he  has  come  in  early,"  said  she.  "  I  am  going 
to  miss  him  awfully." 

Tom  looked  at  her  half-angry,  half-amused. 

"  You  did  that  on  purpose  to  break  me  up,  my  lady," 
said  he  to  himself.  "  Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  or 
die  in  the  attempt." 

His  blood  was  up  and  his  shyness  had  all  left  him, 
driven  away  by  her  interruption.  A  quick  glance 
toward  the  gate  showed  him  that  Carey  had  stopped 
to  speak  to  a  negro.  It  was  now  or  never. 

He  looked  at  Marjorie.  Her  head  was  averted,  but 
he  could  see  that  she  was  watching  him  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye. 

"  As  I  was  about  to  tell  you  a  moment  ago,"  said 
he,  "  I  came  over  this  morning  to  tell  you  that  I 
love " 

"  That  you  love  what,  Tom?"  asked  Aunt  Betty, 
who  had  come  out  unheard  upon  the  gallery. 

Tom  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  crimson.  "  That  I 
love  the  seashore,"  he  gasped  explosively. 

Aunt  Betty  smiled  quietly.  "  I  should  think  you 
would,"  said  he.  "  Every  one  loves  the  seashore.  My 

313 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

husband  once  knew  a  man  who  liked  it  so  well  that 
he  fooled  about  it  until  he  was  drowned.  But  then  he 
was  a  poor  swimmer,  Tom,  and  he  was  afraid.  It 
doesn't  pay  to  be  afraid  at  the  seashore.  One  must 
have  plenty  of  courage  to  get  along  there." 

She  nodded  her  head  knowingly. 

A  great  light  broke  upon  Tom  and  he  gave  the  little 
old  lady  a  look  of  deepest  gratitude. 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  sermon, 
Aunt  Betty,"  said  he,  "  and  I  promise  you  that  I  will 
profit  by  it.  I  don't  think  that  I  will  ever  be  afraid 
of  the  seashore  again." 

"  Of  course  you  won't,"  replied  Aunt  Betty  deci 
sively,  "  and  I  am  also  sure  that  if  you  inquire  in  the 
proper  manner  you  will  find  that  Marjorie  is  not  half  as 
much  afraid  of  the  seashore  as  you  are  yourself." 

Having  delivered  this  parting  shot  she  went  into  the 
house  again. 

No  sooner  was  she  gone  than  Tom  turned  to  Mar 
jorie.  "  I  am  going  to  the  seashore,"  he  announced 
triumphantly. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment  before  she  answered  him, 
her  cheeks  flushed,  her  fingers  beating  a  silent  tattoo 
upon  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"  Of  course  you  are  the  best  judge  of  what  is  good 
for  yourself,  Tom,"  said  she  finally,  "  but  if  you  were 
to  ask  me  about  the  matter  I  should  advise  you  to  post 
pone  your  trip  to  the  seashore  until  some  time  this 
winter." 

Tom  gave  a  start  of  joyful  surprise.  "  And  if  I  wait 
until  this  winter,  what  then?  "  he  asked  breathlessly. 

3H 


MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

"  That,"  answered  Marjorie,  "  I  cannot  say.  You 
will  have  to  wait  until  this  winter  to  find  out." 

Tom's  face,  which  had  been  radiant,  took  on  again 
its  look  of  despair. 

"  But,  Margey,"  he  pleaded,  "  that  isn't  fair.  Won't 
you  say  just  a  little  something  to  ease  my  mind?  " 

The  tinkle  of  the  lunch  bell  came  from  inside  the 
house.  Marjorie  arose  from  her  chair. 

"  Come  on,  Tom,"  said  she.  "  If  we  are  late  Aunt 
Betty  will  never  forgive  us.  She  has  been  trying  to 
start  us  off  to  Mouton  ever  since  six  o'clock  this 
morning." 

Tom  followed  her  in  sullen  silence  to  the  dining 
room,  where  they  found  Aunt  Betty  fluttering  about  in 
a  state  of  the  wildest  excitement. 

"  Now  you  sit  right  down,  Tom  Bayne,"  said  she  as 
that  gentleman  was  shaking  hands  with  Miss  Law 
rence,  "  and  don't  keep  that  girl  standing  about  talk 
ing  or  she'll  miss  her  train.  I  don't  want  to  see  her 
leave,  the  Lord  knows,  but  if  she's  going  she  might  as 
well  get  off  to-day." 

"  But,  Aunt  Betty,"  said  Marjorie,  "  we  have  a 
world  of  time.  We  are  not  going  to  leave  here  until 
twelve  o'clock,  you  know." 

"  People  who  have  plenty  of  time  are  always  the 
ones  who  miss  their  trains,"  said  Aunt  Betty.  "  Now 
can  any  of  you  tell  me  where  Carey  is  that  he  is  so 
late  to-day?" 

As  though  in  answer  to  her  question  Carey  at  that 
moment  pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Hello,  Tom,"  he  cried,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I 

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ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

suppose  we'll  have  to  keep  each  other  company  now 
that  the  girls  are  going  away." 

"  If  you  don't  sit  down  and  eat  your  luncheon  they 
won't  get  away,"  said  Aunt  Betty  emphatically. 

Carey  laughed  and  took  his  seat.  "  Very  well,  Aunt 
Betty,"  said  he,  "  I'll  speed  the  parting  guest,"  and 
he  fell  to  eating  his  lunch  in  the  most  ravenous  manner 
possible,  while  Aunt  Betty  eyed  him  keenly,  a  puzzled 
look  upon  her  face. 

Ever  since  the  day,  several  months  before,  when  she 
had  predicted  that  Carey  would  fall  in  love  with  Miss 
Lawrence,  she  had  watched  him  closely  for  a  sign  that 
her  prediction  had  been  fulfilled,  and  so  many'  and 
different  had  been  the  signs  she  had  perceived  that  upon 
this,  the  last  day  of  Miss  Lawrence's  visit,  she  was  as 
uncertain  as  to  the  outcome  of  her  prophecy  as  she  had 
been  upon  the  day  when  she  had  first  made  it.  At  one 
time  she  had  been  certain  that  Carey  had  fallen  a  victim 
to  the  fair  visitor's  charms,  but  his  apparent  devotion 
had  been  followed  by  a  relaxation  of  great  indifference, 
and  again  Aunt  Betty  found  herself  a  victim  of  un 
certainty. 

Now  had  she  known  the  real  state  of  affairs  she 
would  have  found  that  she  had  been  all  along  very 
near  the  truth,  for  at  one  time  Carey  had  been  as  much 
in  love  with  Miss  Lawrence  as  a  man  could  very  well 
be,  and  then  suddenly  his  feelings  had  changed. 

Why  they  had  changed  he  could  at  first  hardly  say 
himself.  There  had  been  no  quarrel,  Miss  Lawrence 
had  lost  none  of  her  charms  and  had  instead  become 
more  captivating  every  day. 

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MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

But  nevertheless  there  had  been  a  change,  and  Carey, 
groping  in  the  dark  for  some  reason,  saw  a  light,  a 
faint  light  indeed,  but  a  light  for  all  that,  and  with 
a  laugh  of  derision  he  had  turned  his  back  upon  it 
and  had  refused  to  look  again.  At  first  he  would  not 
even  give  this  light  a  name  and  had  fought  away 
from  it  desperately,  arguing  with  himself  that  if  he 
looked  at  it  no  more  it  would  slowly  flicker  out  for 
want  of  attention  and  vanish  from  his  thoughts 
forever. 

And  so  he  had  gone  his  way  in  fancied  security  until 
in  the  witchery  of  a  moonlit  night  he  had  looked  at  this 
light  again  and  it  had  blinded  him  for  a  moment,  hav 
ing  grown  strong  and  bright  in  the  days  of  its  neglect 
and  banishment.  Again  he  had  turned  away  from  it, 
but  this  time  he  had  been  forced  to  speak  its  name,  and 
he  had  whispered  "  Aline "  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
fearfully. 

And  now  that  he  knew  and  recognized  this  light  he 
only  fought  against  it  the  harder,  telling  himself  that 
such  a  thing  was  madness,  promising  himself  that  he 
would  never  look  again,  trying  to  divert  his  mind  by 
paying  Miss  Lawrence  the  most  marked  attention. 

So  therefore  it  was  that  Carey  in  the  grip  of  the  con 
flicting  emotions  was  an  enigma  to  Aunt  Betty,  and 
as  she  gazed  at  him  now  across  the  lunch  table  she  shook 
her  head  despairingly. 

11  He  has  most  certainly  been  attentive  to  her  for  the 
past  few  weeks,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  but  he  may  have 
been  trying  to  make  the  last  part  of  her  visit  as  pleasant 
as  the  first,  and  he  most  certainly  does  not  seem  very 

317 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

downcast  at  her  departure.  Now  if  he  looked  half  as 
glum  as  Tom  Bayne  I  should  not  have  the  slightest 
doubt  as  to  what  his  feelings  are." 

Carey  had  indeed  none  of  the  appearance  of  a  down 
cast  lover,  and  he  laughed  and  joked  with  the  two  girls 
about  their  visit  to  the  seashore  until  Aunt  Betty  inter 
rupted  with  a  sharp,  "  And  now,  my  dears,  if  you 
really  want  to  catch  the  train  you  had  better  make  a 
start." 

As  she  spoke  she  pointed  to  the  clock  upon  the  man 
tel,  the  hands  of  which  were  closely  approaching  the 
hour  of  twelve. 

Instantly  there  was  a  scraping  back  of  chairs  from 
the  table,  a  hurried  putting  on  of  hats  and  forcing  of 
forgotten  things  into  overpacked  valises  as  the  travelers 
prepared  themselves  for  their  journey. 

It  took  quite  a  while  to  say  good-by,  for  the  kisses 
had  to  be  repeated  many  times,  and  when  at  last  the 
two  girls  were  seated  in  the  back  of  the  surrey  with 
Tom  Bayne  before  them  and  old  Bill  had  started  his 
horses  down  the  avenue  of  live  oaks,  they  waved  their 
hands  and  gazed  back  at  the  little  group  upon  the  front 
gallery  until  the  trees  hid  it  from  their  view.  They 
drove  through  the  fields  with  never  a  word,  and  when 
at  last  they  came  out  upon  the  public  road,  Tom  Bayne, 
who  had  been  rummaging  in  his  pockets,  was  the  first  to 
break  the  silence. 

"I  say,"  said  'he,  "  do  you  know  what  I've  done? 
I've  come  off  without  a  single  thing  to  smoke.  Stop  in 
Landry  for  a  moment  will  you,  Uncle  Bill?  I  want 
to  buy  some  cigarettes." 

318 


MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

Uncle  Bill  nodded  solemnly.  "  Yassir,"  answered 
he,  and  true  to  his  promise  he  stopped  the  surrey  in 
front  of  Monsieur  Landry's  store. 

Tom  jumped  out  and  ran  quickly  inside.  Monsieur 
Landry  came  forward  to  meet  him. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur  Bayne?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  want  a  pack  of  cigarettes,"  answered  Tom,  throw 
ing  the  money  on  the  counter.  "  Please  give  them  to  me 
quickly,  for  I  am  on  my  way  with  some  young  ladies 
to  catch  the  train  at  Mouton." 

Monsieur  Landry  handed  him  the  cigarettes  and 
walked  with  him  to  the  door,  curious  to  see  who  it  was 
that  was  leaving.  When  he  saw  who  the  occupants  of 
the  surrey  were  he  came  out  into  the  road. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to 
leave  us,  Miss  Marjorie?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marjorie,  "  I  am  going  to  spend 
the  summer  with  my  friend  here,  Miss  Lawrence,  but 
I'm  coming  back  again,  so  you  needn't  feel  so  badly 
about  my  leaving,  Monsieur  Landry." 

Monsieur  Landry  laughed  and  turned  to  Miss  Law 
rence. 

"And  you?"  he  inquired.  "You  will  come  back 
with  Miss  Marjorie,  will  you  not?  " 

Miss  Lawrence  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  answered 
she,  "  you  will  not  see  me  again  until  Christmas.  I 
am  going  to  spend  the  fall  at  my  home  on  Lawrence 
Hall  plantation." 

Monsieur  Landry  looked  puzzled.  "  So,"  said  he, 
"  Lawrence  Hall  plantation,  eh?  " 

3*9 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Yes,"  replied  Miss  Lawrence,  "  that  is  what  I 
said." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hurry  you  people,"  called  Tom 
Bayne  from  the  seat  in  front,  "  but  if  you  want  to  catch 
your  train,  we  had  better  be  moving." 

Miss  Lawrence  held  out  her  hand.  "  Good-by,  Mon 
sieur  Landry,"  said  she,  "  and  the  best  of  good  luck 
to  you  until  I  see  you  again  at  Christmas." 

Monsieur  Landry  gave  a  sudden  start  of  surprise  and 
gazed  at  the  outstretched  hand  in  amazement. 

"  Good-by,"  said  Miss  Lawrence  again. 

Monsieur  Landry  took  the  hand  and  bowed  low. 
"  Bon  voyage/'  he  cried,  and  the  surrey  rolled  away  in 
a  cloud  of  dust. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  in  the  road  gazing  after 
it,  his  forehead  wrinkled  in  a  frown,  his  eyes  wide  and 
staring  in  speechless  astonishment.  Suddenly  he  gave 
himself  a  little  shake,  like  a  man  coming  out  of  a 
dream,  and  hurrying  into  the  store  went  quickly  to 
his  desk  that  stood  in  the  little  space  enclosed  by  the 
railing. 

Unlocking  one  of  its  drawers  with  trembling  fingers 
he  drew  forth  something  and  gazed  at  it  long  and  curi 
ously.  It  was  the  ring  that  he  had  picked  up  in  the 
coffee  house  the  week  before. 

"  They  are  the  same  in  every  detail,"  said  he  to 
himself.  "  It  is  wonderful,  marvelous.  How  can  it  be 
that  this  ring  which  I  found  in  the  coffee  house  is  exactly 
like  the  one  that  I  have  just  seen  upon  this  Miss  Law 
rence's  finger?  And  she  lives  at  Lawrence  Hall  planta 
tion.  Lawrence  and  Lawrence  Hall,"  he  repeated 

320 


MONSIEUR  LANDRY  TRIES  TO  REMEMBER 

slowly.  "  Where  have  I  heard  of  those  two  names 
before?" 

He  beat  his  hands  upon  the  sides  of  his  head  as 
though  he  sought  to  awaken  his  slumbering  memory. 

"  Ah,"  he  cried,  "  what  a  cruel  thing  is  this  fever. 
It  either  brings  you  death  or  plunges  you  into  everlast 
ing  forgetfulness.  Here  am  I  with  the  secret  of  what 
may  be  a  great  discovery  upon  the  very  tip  of  my  tongue 
and  I  cannot  remember." 

He  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands,  while  the  ring 
upon  the  desk,  catching  a  beam  of  sunlight,  seemed  to 
smile  at  him  mockingly. 

u  And  I  cannot  remember,"  said  he  again,  in  a  voice 
that  was  almost  a  whisper. 


321 


CHAPTER    XIX 

MONSIEUR  VARAIN  DOES  A  KINDNESS 

IN  the  office  of  his  huge  store  at  Mouton  Monsieur 
Edmond  Varain  sat  in  silent  perusal  of  a  letter 
which  he  had  spread  open  upon  the  desk  before 
him. 

He  was  a  sturdy,  rugged  old  man,  tall  and  strong 
and  heavy  of  build,  and  he  bore  the  weight  of  his 
eighty  years  with  the  ease  and  dignity  of  one  but  yet 
in  the  prime  of  life.  As  he  sat  with  his  gray  head 
bent  over  the  letter,  his  dark  eyes  glancing  out  keenly 
from  beneath  their  ragged,  overhanging  brows,  his 
strong,  masterful  face  a  study  of  force  and  strength 
of  will,  he  reminded  one  of  the  tall,  aged  oaks  that 
one  sometimes  sees  in  the  forest. 

Those  great  monarchs  of  the  woodland  kingdom 
that,  stripped  by  time  of  their  youth  and  greenness, 
still  rear  their  bare,  white  branches  proudly  amid  the 
life  and  freshness  about  them,  and  stand  all  bearded 
with  moss  and  crowned  with  lichen,  the  patriarchs  of 
the  forest — unconquerable  by  nature,  their  iron-like 
wood  impervious  to  the  ax  of  the  woodsman,  holding 
high  their  hoary  heads  through  all  seasons,  to  bid  defi 
ance  to  wind  and  weather. 

And  yet  for  all  the  strength  and  sternness  in  the  face 

322 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN     DOES    A    KINDNESS 

of  Monsieur  Varain  there  was  a  look  of  sadness  about 
it  that  was  ever  a  marvel  to  the  people  at  Mouton,  for 
why  should  Monsieur  Varain  be  sad?  they  asked 
themselves. 

Was  he  not  the  owner  of  the  biggest  store  in 
Mouton  ?  Was  not  his  wealth  the  envy  of  every  man  in 
town?  Was  he  not  the  most  important  man  in  all  that 
country,  the  one  whose  advice  must  always  be  asked 
upon  questions  of  grave  moment?  Why,  then,  should 
he  wear  this  look  of  sadness? 

It  is  true  that  it  was  said  by  some  of  the  women  that 
Monsieur  Varain  was  lonely,  for  in  his  great  house  at 
Mouton  he  dwelt  by  himself,  with  neither  kith  nor 
kin  about  him,  but  this  idea  was  scoffed  at  as  ridiculous. 
Surely  so  stern  and  businesslike  a  man  as  Monsieur 
Varain  could  never  know  the  pangs  of  loneliness. 
There  was  no  room  in  his  scheming,  calculating  brain 
for  any  such  feeling  as  that,  depend  upon  it. 

But  this  matter  of  his  living  alone  gave  cause  to 
another  speculation  among  the  people  at  Mouton  more 
engrossing  to  them  than  the  cause  of  his  apparent  sad 
ness.  To  whom  would  he  leave  his  fortune? 

That  he  had  no  kin  to  claim  it  was  well  known. 
Some  said  that  he  would  leave  it  all  to  Felix,  his  head 
clerk,  a  man  who  had  been  with  him  for  years,  who 
had  been  his  one  assistant  in  the  days  when  he  had 
kept  a  little  country  store  at  Coulee  Croche,  a  tiny  set 
tlement  far  away  from  Mouton.  Of  the  fact  that  he 
was  fond  of  Felix  there  was  no  doubt,  and  so  the  head 
clerk  was  looked  upon  with  much  respect  as  the  possible 
heir  of  Monsieur  Varain. 

323 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

And  then  again  it  was  said  by  others  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  money  would  go  toward  the  founding  of  a 
school,  for  Monsieur  Varain  was  greatly  interested  in 
the  cause  of  education,  and  many  and  liberal  were  the 
endowments  which  he  gave  toward  it. 

Of  course  there  were  other  theories  besides  these  two, 
the  chief  ones,  but  in  all  their  speculation  the  people  of 
Mouton  had  come  to  no  conclusion,  and  Monsieur 
Varain,  as  he  sat  at  his  desk  upon  the  morning  that 
begins  this  chapter,  was  as  much  a  mystery  to  them  as 
ever. 

Having  read  his  letter,  he  rang  a  small  bell  set  in  the 
wall  at  his  side,  and,  lying  back  in  his  chair,  waited  for 
the  person  that  he  had  summoned. 

In  a  moment  the  glass  door  of  the  office  opened 
quietly  and  the  head  clerk  entered.  Monsieur  Varain 
waved  his  hand  toward  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down,  Felix,"  said  he.  "  I  have  something  that 
I  wish  to  tell  you." 

Felix  took  the  proffered  seat  and  looked  at  his 
employer  expectantly,  his  whole  person  speaking  of  the 
respect  and  obedience  that  he  felt  for  him. 

He  was  a  small,  wiry  man  with  a  bright,  humorous 
face,  ever  joking  and  laughing  except  in  the  presence 
of  his  employer,  who  to  him  was  the  most  wonderful, 
the  most  infallible,  the  most  masterful  person  in  all 
the  world. 

Monsieur  Varain  picked  up  the  letter  from  his  desk 
and  tapped  it  lightly  with  his  forefinger. 

"  I  have  here,"  said  he,  "  a  letter  from  the  teacher 
of  the  school  at  Landry,  in  which  she  tells  me  that  she 

324 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN    DOES    A    KINDNESS 

will  conduct  the  final  exercises  of  her  classes  to-morrow. 
There  will  be  a  picnic  in  the  woods  on  Bayou  Portage 
near  Landry  at  which  the  children  will  sing  and  recite 
and  in  other  ways  give  proof  of  the  progress  that  they 
have  made  in  the  past  year,  and  I  have  been  asked  to 
be  present.  As  a  member  of  the  School  Board  I  feel 
that  it  is  my  duty  to  go  to  these  exercises  and  therefore 
I  have  decided  to  drive  over  to  Landry  to-morrow." 

He  paused  for  a  moment  while  Felix  nodded  his 
approval  of  this  decision. 

"  And  I  have  also  decided,"  continued  Monsieur 
Varain,  "  to  take  you  with  me." 

A  little  smile  showed  for  a  moment  on  Felix's  face 
and  was  instantly  repressed. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Monsieur  Varain,  "  I  have  decided 
to  take  you  with  me.  You  have  not  had  a  holiday  for 
some  time,  Felix,  and  the  drive  will  do  you  good.  The 
store  can  surely  get  along  without  us  for  one  day.  What 
do  you  say  to  my  plan,  eh?  " 

Felix  permitted  himself  a  smile  of  the  most  exquisite 
gratification. 

"  Fine,"  said  he,  "  fine.  HT  t'ink  hT  make  myself 
some  fun  sure  h'ad  dhoze  picnic." 

Monsieur  Varain's  eyes  twinkled  at  this  announce 
ment.  The  peculiar  English  of  his  head  clerk  was  as 
amusing  to  him,  who  spoke  it  perfectly,  as  it  was  annoy 
ing  to  Felix,  who,  strive  as  he  might,  could  never  mas 
ter  the  difficult  language,  and  became  more  unintelligi 
ble  day  by  day,  despite  the  fact  that  he  never  spoke  a 
word  of  French  unless  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
do  so. 

325 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Monsieur  Varain  turned  to  his  desk  again.  "  Very 
well,  Felix,"  said  he.  "  We  will  consider  the  matter 
settled.  I  will  meet  you  here  to-morrow  morning  at 
seven  o'clock.  You  may  go  back  now  into  the  store 
again." 

"  T'ank  you,  M'sieu,"  said  Felix  as  he  went  through 
the  glass  door,  absorbed  in  contemplating  the  all- 
important  question  of  what  he  should  wear  upon  the 
morrow. 

So  therefore  it  was  that  upon  the  following  morning 
the  two  of  them  set  out  toward  Landry  behind  Mon 
sieur  Varain's  pair  of  blacks  that  could,  according  to 
Felix,  "  Burn  dhe  win'  h'as  you  dhon  never  seen 
before." 

The  day  was  a  glorious  one  with  a  cloudless  sky  and 
a  fresh,  light  breeze  that  seemed  bent  upon  enjoying 
itself  in  its  soft-whispering  journey  across  the  dusty 
earth  before  the  fierce  rays  of  the  noonday  sun  should 
put  it  roughly  to  flight. 

The  road  ran  between  high  banks  of  Cherokee  and 
wild  honeysuckle,  behind  which  were  the  fields  all  white 
with  the  newly  opened  bolls  of  cotton  or  golden  with 
the  ripened  heads  of  rice,  while  on  every  side  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see  the  cane  cut  the  horizon  sharply  in  a 
long  line  of  misty  green. 

The  air  was  redolent  with  the  perfume  of  the  wild 
flowers  that  grew  upon  the  roadside — great  blots  of 
glowing  red,  yellow  and  white  against  the  dark  back 
ground  of  the  hedges,  through  whose  breaks  and  open 
ings  one  could  see  the  tiny  gray  cabins,  each  teeming 
with  its  busy  throng  of  inmates. 

326 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN    DOES    A    KINDNESS 

Monsieur  Varain  threw  back  his  head  and  drew  in 
great  breaths  of  the  fresh,  morning  air. 

"  This  is  nice,  this  driving  about  so  early,  is  it  not, 
Felix?  "  he  asked. 

Felix,  immaculate  in  a  new  black  suit,  gave  a  smiling 
assent  to  this  query. 

"  Yas,"  said  he.  "  H'it  make  me  feel  lik'  when  h'l 
waz  dhoze  lil'  boy  h'ad  Coulee  Croche.  Me  h'l  use 
to  pass  by  dhoze  coulee  earlier  h'an'  dhis  h'an'  kill  dhem 
duck.  H'l  see  her  swim  roun'  h'all  black,  h'an'  h'l 
say  ping  wid  my  gun,  h'an'  whad  you  spoze  h'l  fin' 
me  when  h'l  pick  her  h'up?  " 

"  A  big  French  duck,"  ventured  Monsieur  Varain. 

Felix  shook  his  head.  u  H'l  fin'  dhoze  poule  d'eau," 
said  he.  "  H'alwayz  dhoze  poule  d'eau.  Dhen  h'l  coss 
h'an'  go  home  me." 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded  his  head  gravely.  "  Yes, 
that  is  always  the  way,  Felix,"  said  he.  "  That  is  the 
way  of  the  world.  We  all  of  us  go  after  the  duck  and 
work  hard  to  get  him,  only  to  find  after  he  is  ours  that 
he  is  a  poule  d'eau.  The  wise  people  are  the  ones  who 
go  after  the  poule  d'eau,  for  when  they  pick  him  up  they 
are  not  disappointed.  I  have  shot  at  many  ducks,  Felix, 
but  I  have  never  picked  one  up.  They  have  all  been 
poule  d'eau.  All  poule  d'eau,"  he  repeated  sadly  while 
Felix  looked  at  him  curiously,  at  a  loss  to  understand 
the  philosophy  of  his  observation. 

The  road  turned  into  a  narrow  lane,  lined  upon  either 
side  with  groves  of  china  trees  stripped  now  of  their 
purple  blossoms  and  hung  thickly  with  little,  hard, 
green  balls  that  twinkled  cool  and  inviting  in  the  sun- 

327 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

light,  as  though  to  tempt  some  unwary  traveler  to  taste 
the  bitterness  that  was  within  them. 

The  fields  had  now  given  place  to  long  stretches  of 
pasture  land  all  soft  and  green  with  thick,  velvety  grass 
and  mottled  with  great  yellow  patches  of  camomile.  It 
was  here  that  the  drowsy  cattle  lay  beneath  the  ragged 
willow  trees,  or  stood  knee-deep  in  the  tiny  ponds  that 
dimpled  the  smiling  land  on  every  side. 

The  buggy  rumbled  over  a  bridge  with  a  noise  as  of 
distant  thunder,  leaving  behind  it  a  coulee  that  cleft 
the  green  pasture  land  like  a  huge  knife  of  glittering 
silver.  Before  them  stretched  a  long  expanse  of  hedge 
and  field  behind  which  a  great  square  church  tower 
stood  out  against  the  skyline. 

Monsieur  Varain  pointed  toward  this  tower  with 
his  whip.  "  Landry,"  said  he  laconically,  and  presently 
they  drove  into  the  little  town  itself  and  pulled  up 
before  Monsieur  Landry's  store  with  a  flourish. 

Monsieur  Landry  came  hurrying  out  into  the  road, 
his  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  for  he  and  Monsieur  Varain 
were  old  friends. 

"  Why,  Varain,"  he  cried,  "  so  you  have  come  at 
last?  We  had  almost  given  you  up." 

"  Am  I  then  so  late?"  asked  Monsieur  Varain, 
saluting  the  storekeeper  cordially. 

Monsieur  Landry  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  A  little 
late,  yes,"  said  he.  "  Most  of  the  people  have  left  for 
the  woods.  We  in  the  country  start  early,  you  know, 
but  wait  a  moment  and  I  will  get  my  buggy  and  drive 
down  with  you." 

Monsieur  Varain  turned  to  Felix.     "  How  would  it 

328 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN    DOES    A    KINDNESS 

be  for  you  to  drive  down  in  Monsieur  Landry's  buggy 
and  let  him  come  with  me?  "  he  asked.  "  I  have  not 
seen  him  for  some  time  and  there  is  much  that  I  would 
like  to  tell  him." 

Felix  was  out  in  the  road  before  Monsieur  Varain 
had  finished  speaking. 

"  Fine,"  said  he  as  Monsieur  Landry  took  his  seat 
"  Me  h'l  bin  whish  to  drive  dhem  horse  h'all  day." 

"  You  will  find  my  horse  hitched  and  ready  in  front 
of  my  house,"  called  Monsieur  Landry  as  he  started 
away. 

"  Yas,"  said  Felix,  meditatively  scratching  his  head. 
"  Now  h'l  fin'  dhoze  girl  me  h'an'  take  him  long,  too." 

"  I  say,"  called  a  voice  behind  him,  "  isn't  that 
Felix?" 

Turning  quickly  he  beheld  Mr.  Parker  driving  up 
the  road  toward  him  and  he  smiled  and  waved  his  hand, 
for  he  was  very  fond  of  that  gentleman,  who  never 
failed  to  come  to  the  store  and  see  him  when  he  was 
in  Mouton. 

Mr.  Parker  drove  up  to  Felix  and  stopped. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  out  there  in  the 
road  by  yourself?  "  he  asked. 

Felix  explained  his  desertion  by  Monsieur  Varain. 

Mr.  Parker  moved  over  to  one  side  of  his  buggy 
seat.  "  Get  in,"  he  commanded.  "  I'm  going  to  the 
picnic  myself  and  I'll  take  you  along.  You  can  come 
back  with  me  or  with  old  Varain,  whichever  you  wish." 

Felix  climbed  into  the  buggy  and  they  started  off. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Parker,  "  what  have  you  been 
doing  with  yourself  since  I  saw  you  last?  " 

329 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  H'l  bin  sol'  dhem  mezendice,"  answered  Felix 
promptly. 

"What?  "asked  Mr.  Parker. 

"  H'l  been  sol'  dhem  mezendice,"  repeated  Felix  in 
the  voice  of  one  speaking  to  a  deaf  man. 

Mr.  Parker  thought  for  a  moment.  "  You  have  been 
selling  merchandise,  eh?  "  he  ventured. 

Felix  nodded  complacently.  "  Dhaz  whad  h'l  say," 
answered  he. 

Mr.  Parker  looked  at  him  admiringly.  "  Gad,"  said 
he  to  himself,  "  you  speak  my  language  almost  as  badly 
as  I  do  yours." 

Felix  now  turned  to  him,  his  face  beaming.  "  Did 
h'l  done  tole  you  dhad  my  sis  come  home  termorrer?  " 
he  asked. 

Mr.  Parker  looked  surprised.  "  Why,  no,"  an 
swered  he.  "  I  didn't  know  that  you  had  a  sister, 
Felix.  Where  has  she  been  all  this  time?  " 

Felix  waved  an  arm  westward.  "  H'ad  Noo  'Leens," 
said  he  dramatically.  "  H'ad  dhoze  conven.  He  bin 
dhere  two  year." 

Mr.  Parker  looked  interested.  "  How  was  it  that 
she  didn't  go  to  the  convent  at  Mouton?  "  he  asked. 

Felix  gave  him  a  look  of  the  deepest  scorn.  "  Hah !  " 
he  cried.  "  Why  he  dhon  go  to  dhem  conven'  h'at 
Mouton,  you  h'ask?  Hahl  he  go  to  dhoze  conven' 
h'ad  Noo  'Leens  h'an'  see  h'all  dhem  sight.  Dhoze 
big  house  so  high  h'as  dhoze  tree.  Dhem  crowd  whad 
you  fin'  h'alwayz  on  dhoze  street.  He  seen  im  h'all 
h'an'  he  learn  everyt'ing.  He  play  dhoze  piana  lik' — 
lik'— hell,  h'an'  he  sing— Hah!  jez  lik'  dhoze  bird. 

330 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN     DOES    A    KINDNESS 

H'im  goin'  tak'  you  h'aroun'  h'an'  see  him  w'en  you 
come  to  Mouton.  He  de  finez  girl  whad  you  never 
did  see." 

Mr.  Parker  looked  pleased.  "  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  meet  her,"  said  he  as  they  finally  came  to  Bayou 
Portage  and  the  long  strip  of  woodland  where  the 
people  had  gathered  together  for  the  picnic. 

It  was  an  ideal  spot  which  they  had  chosen,  a  tiny 
open  glade  thickly  grown  with  grass  and  strewn  with 
wild  flowers,  overhung  by  the  great  branches  of  the 
trees  that  grew  about  it.  Here  in  the  silence  of  the 
forest  a  great  crowd  had  congregated,  filling  the  quiet 
air  with  their  shouts  and  laughter,  scaring  the  birds 
from  their  nests  until  they  flew  about  and  screamed 
discordantly  at  this  unwonted  noise  and  clamor,  while 
the  tall,  live  oaks  looked  on  in  silent  bearded  dignity 
and  seemed  to  frown  angrily  at  this  rude  disturbance 
of  their  sanctuary. 

At  one  side  of  the  little  glade  was  the  Bayou  Por 
tage,  a  quiet,  limpid  stream,  flowing  lazily  along  be 
tween  low,  rush-grown  banks  bordered  upon  either  side 
with  cypress  trees  and  great  overhanging  masses 
of  muscadine,  that  cast  their  shadows  all  twisted 
and  distorted  upon  the  smooth,  brown  bosom  of  the 
stream. 

Close  into  the  banks  the  water  lay  black  and  cool 
in  the  shadow  of  the  oaks,  while  out  toward  the  middle 
it  slipped  along  all  gold  and  amber  in  the  sunlight, 
touched  here  and  there  with  tiny  patches  of  blue  or 
white  where  it  mirrored  the  sky  above  it.  And  here 
again  it  was  green  and  brown,  laced  with  a  myriad  of 

331 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

softly  moving  shadows  as  it  passed  along  beneath  the 
great  green  vault  of  the  forest,  ever  gliding  along 
toward  the  far-distant  sea  marsh. 

As.  Mr.  Parker  drove  up  to  the  glade  the  exercises 
were  just  beginning,  and  the  proud  mothers  and  fathers 
had  grouped  themselves  in  a  circle  about  the  open  space 
in  which  the  children  were  huddled  in  a  bashful,  fright 
ened  crowd. 

Their  teacher,  a  timid,  shrinking  little  woman,  flut 
tered  about  among  them  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  en 
couraging  them  with  many  nervous  nods  and  smiles, 
repeating  the  simple  pieces  they  were  to  say,  with  heavy 
emphasis  laid  upon  forgotten  words. 

"  Remember,  my  dears,"  said  she  again  and  again, 
"  that  Monsieur  Varain  has  come  all  the  way  from 
Mouton  to  see  you  and  you  must  do  your  very  best  to 
please  him." 

In  the  center  of  the  ring  of  spectators  Monsieur 
Varain  sat  in  the  seat  of  honor — a  great  armchair 
brought  out  for  the  occasion,  draped  with  moss  and  gar 
lands  of  wild  flowers. 

The  teacher  having  arranged  the  children  in  a  square 
came  over  to  him. 

"  We  are  all  ready  if  you  are,  Monsieur  Varain," 
said  she  timidly. 

Monsieur  Varain  rose  to  his  feet  and  bowed  gravely. 
"  I  wait  your  pleasure,  Madam,"  replied  he. 

Monsieur  Landry,  who  was  master  of  ceremonies, 
stepped  out  before  the  waiting  people  and  spoke  in 
French. 

"  For  the  first  number,"  said  he,  "  the  children  will 

332 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN    DOES    A    KINDNESS 

sing    '  America,'     accompanied     by     the    band     from 
Landry." 

The  band  stepped  forward — a  clarionet,  an  accor 
dion  and  a  triangle,  the  musicians  red  and  embarrassed 
at  their  unusual  prominence. 

The  teacher  raised  her  little  baton. 

Instantly  they  broke  into  the  wildest  discord,  the 
clarionet  shrieking  madly  above  the  other  instruments 
as  though  it  were  in  agony  at  the  terrible  sounds  that 
were  being  drawn  from  it.  The  children  moved  slowly 
in  a  great  circle  singing  mechanically  the  words  of  the 
song,  half  of  which  they  did  not  understand. 

The  accordion  faltered  and  stopped,  likewise  the 
triangle,  but  the  clarionet  kept  on  until  the  bitter  end, 
its  owner  blowing  away  with  puffed-out  cheeks  and 
distended  eyes  as  though  his  very  life  depended  upon 
his  finishing  the  piece  that  he  was  playing. 

The  children  posed  in  a  carefully  arranged  group, 
waving  tiny  American  flags,  the  solitary  musician  low 
ered  his  instrument  and  stood  purple-faced  and  panting. 
The  first  number  was  over. 

Monsieur  Varain  applauded  heartily,  and  the  others, 
following  his  example,  made  the  forest  ring  with  the 
evidence  of  their  appreciation. 

The  man  who  played  upon  the  clarionet  came  for 
ward  bashfully,  pushed  from  behind  by  his  two 
companions. 

"  H'i  would  lik'  to  say  for  dhem  band,"  he 
gasped,  "  dhad  dhey  have  not  practice  dhoze  music 
bud  once." 

He  retired  in  an  agony  of  confusion. 

333 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Monsieur  Landry  came  forward  and  announced  the 
second  number. 

A  tall,  lank  boy  stood  forth  and  groped  his  way  fear 
fully  through  a  recitation. 

And  so  the  exercises  went  on,  number  following  num 
ber  in  endless  sequence  until  Monsieur  Landry  came 
forward  for  the  last  time. 

"  The  final  number  will  be  a  song  by  one  of  the  young 
ladies  of  the  school,"  he  announced. 

Monsieur  Varain  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  the  exer 
cises  had  been  too  long.  What  had  at  first  amused  him 
now  tired  him,  and  he  welcomed  this  final  number  as  a 
release  from  a  very  wearisome  proceeding. 

A  girl  came  forward  and,  throwing  back  her  head, 
began  to  sing.  Monsieur  Varain  eyed  her  languidly. 

She  was  a  slim,  straight  girl  all  clad  in  snowy  white, 
and  as  she  stood  beneath  the  great  trees,  the  sunlight 
filtering  through  their  heavy  branches  about  her,  she 
was  very  beautiful. 

Monsieur  Varain  leaned  forward  and  looked  at  her 
curiously,  putting  on  his  glasses  which  he  had  until  now 
kept  in  his  pocket,  but  her  face  was  at  an  angle  and  he 
could  not  see  it  clearly. 

The  girl  sang  on,  her  voice  rising  clear  and  sweet 
in  the  notes  of  an  old  Acadian  lullaby,  and  as  she  sang 
Monsieur  Varain's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  time  when 
he  had  been  a  child,  and  he  could  hear  again  his  mother 
crooning  softly  by  the  cradle'  in  the  firelight  while  the 
fierce  north  wind  roared  angrily  out  of  doors.  And 
then  he  could  hear  his  young  wife  singing  about 
her  work  while  their  little  child  lay  sleeping  quietly 

334 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN    DOES    A    KINDNESS 

in  the  yellow  sunlight.  His  eyes  were  dim  and 
misty. 

The  girl  ceased  singing  and  turned  away.  Monsieur 
Varain  looked  at  her  eagerly.  Suddenly  he  gave  a 
hoarse  cry  and  smote  the  arm  of  his  chair  in  amaze 
ment,  for  it  was  as  though  his  daughter  had  risen  from 
her  grave  and  stood  before  him.  He  hurried  from  his 
chair  and  went  over  to  where  the  little  teacher  was 
bestowing  generous  words  of  praise  upon  her  pupils. 

She  came  forward  to  meet  him,  her  gentle  face  glow 
ing  with  pride  and  happiness. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  exercises,  Monsieur  Varain  ?" 
she  asked  eagerly.  "  Were  you  pleased,  or  were  you 
disappointed?  " 

"  I  was  very  much  pleased,"  answered  Monsieur 
Varain  mendaciously.  "  They  were  very  good  indeed. 
That  last  song  was  especially  good  and  I  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  The  girl  has  a  good  voice.  Can  you  tell 
me  her  name?  " 

The  teacher  smiled.  "  That  was  Aline  Telesse  who 
sang  the  last  song,"  answered  she.  "  She  is  the  bright 
est  and  quickest  of  all  my  pupils.  Although  she  only 
started  school  this  year  she  has  left  the  others  far  behind 
her.  She  is  a  poor  girl  and  a  good  one,  Monsieur 
Varain." 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded  gravely,  his  heavy  eye 
brows  drawn  down  over  his  eyes  as  though  he  were 
greatly  perplexed. 

"  And  you  say  that  she  is  very  quick  and  bright?  " 
he  asked. 

The  little  teacher  answered  him  eagerly.    "  Oh,  yes," 

335 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

cried  she,  "  she  is  wonderfully  bright.  She  can  enter 
the  convent  at  Mouton  now,  but  she  is  so  poor  that  she 
cannot  even  buy  the  books  for  her  studies  there.  It  is 
a  pity,  for  she  is  so  willing  and  anxious  to  learn." 

Monsieur  Varain  took  off  his  glasses  and  silently 
polished  them  as  was  his  habit  when  thinking  deeply. 

"  I  would  like  to  meet  this  Aline,"  said  he,  "  for  I 
am  interested  in  what  you  have  told  me.  Perhaps  I 
may  be  able  to  help  her." 

"  I  shall  bring  her  in  a  moment,"  cried  the  teacher, 
and  she  was  off  like  a  flash  in  search  of  the  girl,  whom 
she  found  talking  to  the  old  man.  Without  a  word  of 
explanation  she  hurried  her  before  Monsieur  Varain. 

"  This  is  Monsieur  Varain  from  Mouton,  who  wishes 
to  meet  you,  Aline,"  explained  the  little  teacher,  all  but 
breathless  from  the  hurried  way  in  which  she  had  dis 
patched  her  errand. 

Monsieur  Varain  held  out  his  hand.  "  It  is  a  pleas 
ure,  my  child,"  said  he,  "  to  meet  one  who  is  eager  and 
willing  to  learn.  Your  teacher  has  told  me  that  you 
are  anxious  to  go  to  the  convent  at  Mouton.  Is 
that  so?  " 

The  girl  looked  at  him  timidly.  "  Ah,  yes,  M'sieu" 
answered  she,  "  it  is  so.  If  I  could  but  go  to  the  con 
vent  I  would  be  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world,  but  you 
know,  M'sieu,  that  I  am  too  poor  and  I  must  not  even 
think  of  such  a  thing." 

She  smiled  sadly  and  Monsieur  Varain  gazed  at  her 
with  a  tenderness  in  his  eyes  that  was  wholly  foreign 
to  them. 

"  Listen,  my  child,"  said  he,  "  for  I  am  going  to  tell 

.336 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN     DOES    A    KINDNESS 

you  something.  When  I  was  your  age  I  was  as  poor 
as  you  are.  My  father  worked  in  the  field  and  I  worked 
with  him.  The  only  chance  that  I  ever  had  to  go  to 
school  was  when  the  crops  were  laid  by  and  there  was 
no  work  to  do,  and  I  used  then  to  go  to  a  little  school- 
house  not  half  so  large  as  the  one  in  Landry.  It  was 
there,  my  child,  that  I  got  what  learning  I  have  ever 
had,  and  I  got  it  through  hard  work  by  day  and  by 
night.  What  success  I  have  had  in  life  has  been  due 
to  that  learning,  scanty  as  it  was,  and  I  believe  that 
could  I  have  gone  to  a  better  school  my  success  would 
have  been  all  the  greater.  It  is,  therefore,  that  I  am 
anxious  to  help  any  one  who  really  wishes  to  learn,  for 
I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty  to  do  so,  and  it  gives  me  great 
pleasure  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  send  you  to  the 
convent  at  Mouton." 

The  girl  gave  a  gasp  of  incredulity.  "  Ah,  M'sieu," 
she  cried,  "  do  you  really  mean  it?  You  are  not  joking? 
Do  you  really  mean  that  you  will  send  me  to  the  con 
vent  at  Mouton?  " 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded.  "  I  do,"  said  he.  "  I 
never  joke.  The  convent  is  closed  now  on  account  of 
its  being  vacation,  but  I  am  sure  that  if  I  see  the  good 
sisters  they  will  take  you  and  teach  you  until  the  next 
term  starts  again.  I  wish  you  to  go  as  soon  as  possi 
ble,  for  it  will  all  be  very  strange  and  new  to  you  and 
I  would  like  you  to  be  accustomed  to  it  when  the  other 
girls  arrive." 

The  little  teacher  beamed  with  happiness.  Aline's 
eyes  were  sparkling  as  she  tried  to  thank  him. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  say,  M'sieu,"  she  faltered. 

337 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  If  I  were  to  speak  a  year  I  could  not  tell  you  of  the 
thankfulness  that  is  within  my  heart.  I  will  try  and 
show  you  by  my  work,  M'sieu,  how  much  I  think  of 
what  you  have  done  for  me." 

Monsieur  Varain  waved  away  her  thanks  with  a 
smile.  "  There,  there,  my  child,"  said  he.  "  You  have 
nothing  to  thank  me  for.  I  have  only  done  a  kindness 
that  it  has  given  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  do. 
Come  to  my  store  at  Mouton  in  two  weeks  from  to 
day,  and  I  will  enter  you  at  the  convent,  for  by  that 
time  I  will  have  made  the  necessary  arrangements.  And 
now  good-by  until  I  see  you  again  at  Mouton." 

He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  and  Aline  with  a  cry 
of  thanks  hurried  off  to  tell  the  old  man  of  her  good 
fortune. 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on  the  women 
had  been  busy  setting  out  the  lunch,  and  as  Monsieur 
Varain  looked  about  him  he  found  that  the  little  glade 
had  been  transformed  into  a  huge  dining  table,  gleam 
ing  with  snowy  cloths,  upon  which  was  spread  out  a 
tempting  array  of  good  things  to  eat. 

Monsieur  Landry  hurried  up  to  him  and  seized  him 
eagerly. 

"  Come,  Varain,"  he  cried,  "  you  are  just  in  time. 
You  shall  sit  here  with  me  and  eat  some  of  the  best 
gumbo  that  you  ever  tasted  in  your  life." 

Monsieur  Varain  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  sorry," 
said  he,  "  but  I  have  just  remembered  that  I  have  an 
important  business  engagement  at  Mouton  this  even 
ing,  and  I  must  hurry  back  or  I  shall  be  too  late  to 
keep  it." 

338 


MONSIEUR    VARAIN     DOES    A    KINDNESS 

Monsieur  Landry  looked  disappointed.  "  You  will 
surely  eat  a  bite  before  you  leave,"  he  urged.  "  You 
will  be  hungry  before  you  get  home  again." 

But  Monsieur  Varain  was  firm  in  his  determination 
to  leave. 

"  I  have  only  time  to  keep  my  engagement  as  it  is," 
said  he,  "  and  I  am  going  to  hurry  away  before  the 
temptation  of  the  delicious  gumbo  becomes  too  strong 
for  me.  I  will  not  take  Felix,  as  he  is  enjoying  himself 
and  he  needs  a  holiday.  He  can  surely  find  some  one 
to  drive  him  home  to-night.  So  good-by,  Landry,  and 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  thank  every  one  for  the 
pleasant  morning  that  I  have  had." 

Monsieur  Landry  watched  him  as  he  strode  away  to 
his  buggy,  a  very  puzzled  man.  "  Varain  is  a  strange 
person,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  He  told  me  but  an  hour 
ago  that  he  was  taking  a  little  holiday  to-day  and  that 
he  would  be  with  me  until  to-night.  I  wonder  what 
could  have  caused  him  to  change  his  mind  so 
suddenly?" 

Monsieur  Varain  was  puzzled  also  as  he  drove  home 
wards,  and  when  he  came  at  last  to  Mouton  he  did  not 
stop  at  his  store,  but  drove  directly  to  his  house.  Going 
to  his  office  upon  the  lower  floor  he  took  from  a  secret 
drawer  in  his  desk  a  square  of  cardboard,  and  propping 
it  up  before  him  he  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  study 
ing  it  carefully. 

It  was  an  old  photograph,  a  photograph  of  a  young 
girl,  all  faded  and  worn  and  mottled  with  great  brown 
patches  of  damp. 

The  sternness  of  Monsieur  Varain's  face  relaxed  as 

339 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

he  gazed  at  it  and  his  eyes  were  soft  and  tender  and 
filled  with  tears. 

"  The  likeness  is  remarkable,"  said  he  slowly,  "  and 
her  name  is  Aline.  Is  this  a  mere  coincidence,  or  am  I 
at  last  to  make  a  feeble  restitution  to  my  daughter? 
Ah,  Aline,  Aline,  would  to  God  that  I  could  do  some 
thing  in  atonement  for  my  cruelty  to  you.  I  will  see 
the  sisters  to-morrow,  and  when  this  girl  is  at  the  con 
vent  I  will  send  Felix  to  Landry  to  make  inquiries  con 
cerning  her  parentage.  Yes,  Felix  is  the  one  to  send. 
He  is  bright  and  witty,  and  he  could  learn  more  in  a 
day  than  most  people  could  learn  in  a  year." 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  what  the  head  clerk  had  said 
to  him  that  morning  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  eyes 
glowing  with  an  eagerness  almost  boyish. 

"  Again  I  have  shot  at  a  duck,"  cried  he.  "  Perhaps 
this  time  I  shall  pick  him  up,  who  knows?"  and  the 
face  in  the  photograph  smiled  at  him  happily  as  though 
it  had  easily  solved  this  difficult  question. 


340 


CHAPTER    XX 

ALINE  SAYS  GOOD-BY 

IT  was  harvest  time  at  Belrive,  and  from  morning 
to  night  the  big  plantation  was  a  scene  of  endless 
activity,  for  the  busy  season  of  the  year  had 
arrived — the  time  when  the  rice  must  be  cut  and 
threshed  and  safely  stored  away  from  the  ever-threaten 
ing  danger  of  winds  and  rain. 

The  fields  were  a  carpet  of  green  and  gold,  a  mar 
velous  blending  of  color,  from  the  pale,  misty  green  of 
the  newly  formed  grain  to  the  rich,  golden  yellow  of 
the  heavy,  ripened  heads  that  drooped  upon  their  slen 
der  stems,  bowed  down  by  their  own  fruitfulness. 

And  here  where  the  rice  was  ripe  and  ready  to  har 
vest  the  cuts  were  dry  and  cracked  and  filled  with  loose, 
peeled  earth  all  covered  with  thick,  green  slime,  for 
the  water  had  been  taken  away  that  the  negroes  might 
come  in  with  their  reap-hooks  and  cut  the  crop  for  the 
thresher. 

All  day  long  the  cutters  ate  their  way  through  the 
high  green  walls  of  the  rice,  seizing  the  grain  by  the 
armful,  cutting  it  with  a  single  quick  stroke  of  their 
reap-hooks,  spreading  the  severed  stalks  upon  the  short, 
thick  stubble  to  dry  in  the  sunlight,  there  to  await  the 
coming  of  the  stackers. 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

These,  quick  of  grasp  and  nimble  of  finger,  tied  the 
rice  into  great  ragged  bundles  which  were  presently 
taken  by  the  shockers  and  built  into  tall,  pointed  shocks, 
each  one  carefully  thatched  with  leaves  and  straw  to 
keep  out  the  ever-destructive  rain. 

Here  among  the  shocks  the  carts  made  their  rounds, 
each  with  its  complement  of  loaders,  who  pitched  the 
bundles  into  the  carts  with  their  long-handled  forks  and 
left  behind  them  nothing  but  the  dry,  yellow  stubble  to 
tell  of  the  crop  that  had  been  made  that  year. 

And  now  the  bundles,  being  safely  loaded  into  the 
carts,  were  driven  down  the  plantation  road  to  where 
the  big  red  thresher  roared  and  groaned  and  rumbled — 
ever  calling  for  more  rice — and  were  presently  pitched 
upon  its  carrier  and  borne  into  its  gaping  black  mouth, 
that  gobbled  them  up  like  some  savage,  hungry  mon 
ster.  And  here  within  this  great  machine,  with  its 
twisting  belts  and  swiftly  turning  wheels,  the  rice  was 
separated  and  made  ready  for  the  market:  the  leaves 
and  straw  blown  out  of  the  wind  stacker  in  a  whirling 
brown  cloud,  the  grain  pouring  from  the  bagger  in  a 
thick,  golden  stream  that  was  caught  in  sacks  and  was 
driven  away  to  the  storeroom,  all  ready  now  for 
shipment. 

Far  out  in  the  field,  near  the  edge  of  the  woods,  old 
Telesse  was  cutting  a  trail  for  one  of  the  binders,  paus 
ing  every  now  and  then  in  his  work  to  gaze  at  the  huge 
machine  behind  him,  with  its  white  canvas  carrier  and 
its  slowly  moving  reel,  the  like  of  which  he  had  never 
seen  before.  It  was  a  marvel  to  him  to  see  the  tall 
stalks  of  rice  cut  and  tied  and  left  behind  in  a  long 

342 


ALINE    SAYS    GOOD-BY 

row  of  bundles  by  this  wonderful  piece  of  mechanism, 
and  he  never  tired  of  watching  it. 

He  had  worked  hard  in  the  rice  ever  since  the  begin 
ning  of  the  harvest,  for  his  own  little  crop  of  cotton  and 
corn  had  been  laid  by,  and  as  he  looked  every  now  and 
then  across  the  fields  to  where  the  cabin  shone  a  tiny 
spot  of  white  in  the  vast  ocean  of  green,  he  smiled  with 
satisfaction,  for  his  crop,  though  small,  was  a  good 
one. 

And  yet  whenever  he  gazed  at  the  cabin  there  came 
also  upon  his  wrinkled  face  a  look  of  sadness  which, 
strive  as  he  would,  he  could  not  drive  away,  for  upon 
the  morrow  Aline  was  to  go  to  Mouton  to  the  convent 
and  he  knew  that  he  would  miss  her  sorely. 

Ever  since  the  eventful  day  of  the  first  communion 
the  old  man  had  done  a  great  deal  of  thinking,  more 
in  fact  than  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life  before,  and  the 
only  result  that  he  had  achieved  by  all  this  mental  labor 
was  to  find  himself  a  greatly  puzzled  man. 

He  had  fully  expected  that  Numa,  true  to  his  prom 
ise,  would  tell  of  the  man  that  he  had  killed  so  many 
years  ago,  the  man  that  he  had  shot  by  mistake,  and  he 
had  gone  about  for  days  in  fear  and  trembling,  expect 
ing  every  moment  to  find  himself  in  the  relentless  grasp 
of  the  law.  But  Numa,  after  an  interval  of  hiding  in 
the  Grand  Woods,  had  come  back  to  Landry  subdued 
in  body  as  well  as  mind,  had  spoken  to  him  humbly, 
begging  his  pardon,  and  the  old  man  had  forgiven  him, 
rejoicing  at  his  deliverance  from  the  fear  that  had  for 
so  long  oppressed  him. 

And  at  all  this  he  had  marveled  greatly,  little  know- 

343 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

ing  that  Numa  was  only  striving  to  enter  his  good 
graces  again  for  the  better  accomplishment  of  his  own 
wicked  purposes. 

And  after  this  had  come  the  picnic  and  the  kindness 
of  Monsieur  Varain,  all  of  which  had  been  to  the  old 
man  a  mystery  fully  as  great  as  that  of  Numa's  silence. 
It  was  true  that  Monsieur  Varain  had  sent  many  a 
poverty-stricken  child  the  books  for  its  schooling,  and 
he  had  even  sent  one  or  two  boys  to  the  great  school 
at  Baton  Rouge,  but  then  he  had  known  these  children 
well  and  had  watched  carefully  their  work  and  progress 
before  he  had  done  anything  for  them.  And  now  he 
had  come  to  Landry,  had  seen  Aline  but  a  short  hour 
and  had  promised  to  send  her  to  the  convent;  had  prom 
ised  to  send  her  there  long  weeks  before  the  opening 
that  she  might  become  accustomed  to  the  place,  and 
therefore  be  unembarrassed  when  the  other  girls 
arrived. 

It  was  incredible  and  the  old  man  could  do  naught 
but  puzzle  over  it,  arriving  at  one  conclusion  only  to 
reject  it  for  another,  until  he  finally  dismissed  the  affair 
as  too  complex  for  his  simple  brain.  And  so  to  him  the 
last  few  weeks  had  been  a  period  of  wonder,  and  as  he 
cut  his  way  through  the  cool  green  rice  he  shook  his 
head  from  time  to  time  as  though  to  drive  away  the 
thoughts  that  so  troubled  him. 

When  he  saw  Carey,  who  had  ridden  up  to  inspect 
the  binder,  he  stuck  his  reap-hook  through  his  belt 
and  went  over  to  him. 

Carey  waved  him  a  friendly  greeting.  "  How  does 
the  rice  come  on,  Telesse?  "  he  asked. 

344 


ALINE    SAYS    GOOD-BY 

The  old  man  pointed  to  where  he  had  been  working. 
"  If  you  will  look  where  I  have  cut,  M'sieu"  said  he, 
"  you  will  find  no  red  rice  or  indigo.  This  part  of  the 
field  is  as  clean  as  the  blue  sky  above  it." 

"  Well,"  answered  Carey,  "  it  ought  to  be.  I  have 
spent  enough  money  pulling  indigo  and  red  rice  this 
year  to  have  the  field  entirely  clean  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  I  shall  want  you  to  drive  a  cart  to-morrow, 
Telesse.  The  binders  won't  run  again  until  next  week, 
you  know." 

"  I  will  not  be  here  in  the  morning,  M'sieu/'  replied 
the  old  man.  "  I  am  going  to  Mouton  to-morrow  to 
take  Aline  to  the  convent.  The  two  weeks  will  be  up 
then." 

Carey's  face  clouded.  "  That's  so,"  said  he.  "  In 
the  hurry  at  the  thresher  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 
I  shall  miss  Aline  almost  as  much  as  you  will  miss  her, 
Telesse.  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  without 
my  coffee  and  my  little  talk  with  her  in  the  morning." 

The  old  man  tried  to  smile,  but  his  lip  trembled  and 
he  turned  away  his  head  quickly. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  think  of  how  much  I  am  going 
to  miss  her,  M'sieu,"  said  he,  and  without  another  word 
he  hurried  back  to  his  work,  ashamed  of  the  suspicious 
moisture  in  his  eyes. 

Carey  rode  away  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  in  the  busy 
days  of  the  harvest  he  had  found  time  to  see  a  great  deal 
of  Aline,  and  he  had  come  to  care  for  her  a  great  deal 
more  than  he  liked  to  admit  even  to  himself. 

That  he  would  ever  come  to  really  love  her  was,  he 
often  told  himself,  out  of  the  question.  He  was  a 

345 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

gentleman,  a  planter,  and  she  was  his  tenant,  a  poor, 
ignorant  girl  as  far  beneath  him  as  any  one  could  very 
well  be,  and  yet  there  was  about  her  some  indefinable 
charm  that  he  had  never  found  in  any  other  woman. 

In  their  talks  at  daybreak,  when  the  world  lay  about 
them  a  sea  of  mist  and  leaden  sky,  he  had  learned  many 
things  that  he  had  never  known  before.  He  had  learned 
that  a  simple,  untaught  girl  could  tell  of  the  things  that 
filled  her  humble  life  and  make  them  appear  beautiful 
in  the  telling,  things  that  to  him  had  always  seemed 
drear  and  squalid  and  wholly  uninteresting.  He  had 
learned  also  that  people  could  be  happy  without  riches, 
without  honors  or  position,  and  that  this  girl  with  her 
pure  thoughts,  unwarped  by  the  knowledge  of  the 
world,  could  tell  him  of  love,  of  honor,  of  fidelity  of 
purpose,  of  a  happiness  in  simple  things  that  he  had 
never  dreamed  of  before. 

And  so  he  learned  from  her  of  the  many  things  that 
made  her  world,  and  in  return  he  told  her  of  that  other 
world  of  which  she  knew  so  little,  while  she  listened  to 
him  in  silent  wonder,  awestruck  at  the  greatness  of  it  all. 

It  had  been  an  education  for  both  of  them,  and  as 
Carey  rode  away  from  the  old  man  it  pained  him  to 
think  that  these  pleasant  lessons  were  now  at  an  end. 
A  dozen  times  that  day  he  started  toward  the  little 
cabin  only  to  turn  back  angry  at  his  weakness,  for  he 
had  promised  himself  that  now  that  Aline  was  going 
away  he  would  forget  her  and  that  he  would  not  go  to 
her  to  say  good-by. 

If  she  came  to  him  it  would  be  a  different  thing,  and 
she  did  come  at  sundown,  walking  up  the  plantation 

346 


ALINE    SAYS    GOOD-BY 

road  to  where  he  stood  upon  the  levee  of  the  main 
canal,  watching  the  last  few  minutes  of  work  that  day. 

"  I  have  come  to  say  good-by,  M'sieu"  said  she 
simply. 

Carey  held  out  his  hand,  and  his  voice  shook  a  little 
as  he  answered  her. 

"  Good-by,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  miss  you  more 
than  I  can  tell  you.  It  will  be  very  lonesome  for  me  in 
the  mornings  now  that  you  are  going  away." 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  with  a  soft  light  in 
her  eyes  that  he  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"  And  I  shall  miss  you  also,  M'sieu"  said  she.  "  I 
shall  miss  your  many  kindnesses,  for  which  I  thank  you 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  You  have  been  very 
good  to  me  and  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

Carey  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  You  have  noth 
ing  to  thank  me  for,"  he  answered.  "  What  I  have 
done  for  you  has  been  a  pleasure  to  me,  and  I  want 
you  to  promise  me  that  if  you  ever  need  anything  in 
Mouton  you  will  let  me  know  about  it." 

"  I  promise  you,  M'sieu,  thank  you,"  replied  the  girl. 

Carey  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  brought 
forth  a  gold  coin. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  this,  Aline,"  said  he  as  he 
handed  it  to  her,  "  not  as  a  piece  of  money,  but  as  a 
keepsake  from  me." 

"  I  shall  keep  it  forever,  M'sieu,"  replied  the  girl 
softly. 

Again  Carey  held  out  his  hand.  "  Good-by,  Aline," 
said  he,  "  and  may  you  have  all  the  success  in  the  world 
with  your  studies." 

347 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

She  watched  him  mount  his  horse  in  silence,  the  gold 
piece  tightly  clasped  in  her  little  hand. 

He  took  off  his  broad-brimmed  hat  and  waved  her 
farewell  as  he  galloped  up  the  road,  while  she  stood 
upon  the  high  levee  and  gazed  after  him,  her  blue  eyes 
filled  with  a  longing  and  a  tenderness  that  would  have 
troubled  him  much  to  have  seen. 

The  sky  was  a  sea  of  golden  fire  where  the  sun  had 
sunk  below  the  dark  unbroken  line  of  the  rice.  The 
fields  lay  before  her  black  and  still  in  the  short  twilight, 
overhung  with  mist,  where  the  water  still  stood  in  the 
cuts  of  unripened  grain.  Up  the  wide  road  the  negroes 
went  in  a  straggling  crowd  toward  the  quarters,  their 
day's  work  done.  Some  of  them  were  singing  and  the 
sound  of  their  voices  came  faint  and  sweet  from  the 
distance : 

"  Bin  wuck  on  de  levee  all  day, 
Bin  wuck  on  de  levee  all  day, 
Bin  wuck  on  de  levee  Lord,  Lord,  Lord, 
Bin  wuck  on  de  levee  all  day.'* 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  the  sun-dried 
rice  that  they  had  been  shocking. 

Aline  stood  upon  the  levee,  a  dim  white  figure  in  the 
gathering  darkness. 

The  fire  in  the  west  faded  to  a  dull,  leaden  gray  and 
the  night  fell  quickly  upon  the  fields,  for  the  twilight 
in  Louisiana  is  short  and  there  is  little  or  no  afterglow. 
The  stars  came  out  and  twinkled  bravely,  as  though  to 
make  the  most  of  their  faint  light  before  the  coming  of 
the  moon. 

348 


ALINE    SAYS   GOOD-BY 

Aline  looked  far  up  the  deserted  road  toward  the 
big  house  and  raised  the  gold  piece  to  her  lips.  Her 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  little  sob  and  fell  upon  her 
knees  in  the  long  grass  and  tie  vines  that  grew  upon 
the  top  of  the  levee.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes 
were  bright  and  her  head  was  bowed  as  though  in 
shame. 

"  Ah,  Mon  Dleu!  help  me,"  she  cried,  "  for  I  am  like 
Angele  of  Anse  Le  Vert,"  and  her  voice  trembled  with 
fear;  but  when  a  moment  later  she  went  back  toward 
the  little  cabin,  in  the  starlight,  she  was  smiling  softly 
like  one  who  has  come  upon  a  new  happiness. 


349 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LE  BOSSU  MAKES  A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  CONVENT  AT 

MOUTON 

IN  a  quiet  corner  at  Mouton,  set  far  back  within  the 
shady  limits  of  the  trim  garden  which  surrounded 
it,  stood  the  convent  of  the  good  Sisters  of  Mount 
Carmel.  It  was  a  very  old  building,  being  in  fact  one 
of  the  landmarks  at  Mouton,  and  in  all  the  town  there 
was  no  man  who  could  tell  of  the  time  when  it  had  not 
stood  cool  and  white  and  stately  amid  its  grove  of  oak 
and  china  ball,  seeming  to  hold  itself  aloof  from  the 
petty  strifes  and  discords  of  the  busy  life  about  it. 

It  was  here  in  the  peaceful  quiet  of  this  convent  that 
Aline,  through  the  kindness  of  Monsieur  Varain,  had 
spent  four  happy  months ;  four  months  of  patient  work 
and  study  which  had  borne  good  fruit  and  had  given  to 
her  the  knowledge  for  which  she  longed  so  eagerly, 
while  the  gentle,  black-robed  sisters  had  watched  her 
progress  with  smiles  of  satisfaction  and  had  striven  in 
every  way  to  help  her. 

Coming  as  she  had,  during  the  time  of  vacation,  she 
had  at  first  been  regarded  curiously,  had  been  looked 
upon  as  one  incapable  of  following  the  other  girls  upon 
the  devious  paths  of  learning  and  therefore  sent  before 
them  to  acquire  what  knowledge  she  might  before  their 

35° 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A    JOURNEY 

arrival,  but  her  unceasing  work,  her  rapid  progress, 
and  above  all  her  gentle,  loving  nature,  had  won  for 
her  a  place  in  the  esteem  of  the  good  sisters  that  had 
never  been  occupied  before,  and  when  the  other  girls 
had  finally  arrived  there  was  not  one  among  them  so 
beloved  by  all. 

And  so  the  days  had  passed  on  happily,  each  one 
bringing  some  new  wonder  through  the  medium  of  her 
studies,  each  one  endearing  her  more  to  the  sisters  and 
to  all  about  her. 

It  was  now  her  chief  delight  to  read,  an  accomplish 
ment  perfected  by  her  stay  at  the  convent,  for  at  Lan- 
dry  she  had  only  been  able  to  find  her  way  through  the 
simple  pages  of  her  primer.  From  the  shelves  of  the 
convent  library  she  drew  great  dusty  volumes  that  had 
lain  there  undisturbed  for  years,  lives  of  saints  and  of 
martyrs,  histories  of  ages  long  past  and  forgotten,  and 
plunging  into  them  eagerly  she  read  their  musty  pages 
with  a  delight  that  must  have  pleased  those  ancient 
chroniclers,  stern  and  ascetic  though  they  were. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  her  in  the  short  autumn 
afternoons  when,  her  studies  done  for  the  day,  she  sat 
beneath  the  great  oaks  in  the  convent  garden,  her  head 
bent  low  over  some  ponderous  volume  of  ancient  lore. 
Here  she  would  sit  for  hours,  her  pretty  face  alive  with 
the  many  emotions  with  which  the  book  inspired  her, 
her  little  hands  turning  the  faded  pages  eagerly,  impa 
tiently,  her  whole  being  following  the  fortunes  of  some 
long-dead  saint  or  martyr  with  breathless  interest. 

It  was  during  these  pleasant  hours  in  the  garden 
that  Monsieur  Varain  came  often  to  see  her,  and  his 

351 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

visits  increased  as  the  weeks  passed  on,  until  now  he 
had  become  a  familiar  figure  at  the  convent. 

His  interest  in  the  girl  had  become  the  subject  of 
much  discussion  at  Mouton,  and  the  chances  of  Felix's 
becoming  Monsieur  Varain's  heir  had  been  reduced  by 
the  gossips  to  a  minimum.  It  was  also  noticed  by  many 
that  the  sad  look  upon  Monsieur  Varain's  face  was 
slowly  yet  perceptibly  fading  away  and  that  he  was 
beginning  to  look  almost  young  again.  "  Who,  besides 
this  girl,"  they  asked  themselves,  "  could  have  caused 
such  a  change?  " 

And  so  Aline  became  an  object  of  curiosity,  and  was 
for  a  long  time  besieged  with  innumerable  questions  by 
the  carefully  primed  day  scholars  from  Mouton.  How 
ever,  knowing  nothing  herself,  her  answers  shed  but 
little  light  upon  the  mystery,  and  the  curious  ones  were 
forced  to  abandon  this  source  of  information  and  turn 
as  a  last  resort  to  Landry. 

But  here  again  they  were  baffled  by  the  taciturnity 
of  old  Telesse,  and  so  they  abandoned  their  pursuit  for 
the  solution  of  this  mystery  and  waited  patiently,  hoping 
that  in  the  days  to  come  it  would  finally  force  itself 
upon  them. 

Now,  had  these  curious  ones  known  all  that  Monsieur 
Varain  himself  knew,  they  would  still  have  been  very 
much  in  the  dark,  for  the  repeated  visits  of  Felix  to 
Landry  had  yielded  him  but  little  information  to  bring 
back  to  his  employer.  In  vain  had  he  questioned  old 
Telesse.  The  old  man  had  answered  him  evasively  with 
mumbled  replies  that  told  but  little. 

He  had  said  that  Aline  had  been  given  to  him  when 

352 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A    JOURNEY 

but  a  little  child  to  raise.  That  he  did  not  know  her 
father  and  mother,  who  were  dead.  The  child  had  been 
given  to  him,  that  was  all.  Things  like  that  happened 
every  day.  He  was  thankful  to  Monsieur  Varain  for 
what  he  had  done  for  the  girl,  and  he  would  like  to  tell 
him  about  her,  but  he  did  not  know,  he  never  had 
known,  and  why  should  he  know  now  ? 

And  all  of  these  things  old  Telesse  told  Felix  because 
he  was  suspicious,  because  his  master  had  told  him  many 
years  ago  not  to  speak  to  outsiders  of  himself  or  of 
his  child,  and  he  had  never  forgotten. 

Monsieur  Varain  was  greatly  disappointed.  He  had 
hoped  easily  to  learn  the  parentage  of  this  girl  of  whom 
he  had  become  so  fond,  and  he  had  hoped  also  to  find 
that  she  was  the  girl  he  was  seeking,  his  granddaughter. 

When,  many  years  ago,  in  his  anger  at  her  secret 
marriage,  he  had  disowned  his  only  child,  he  had  felt 
a  savage  delight  in  his  cruelty  to  her.  In  those  days 
the  memory  of  his  life  as  overseer  had  clung  to  him 
tenaciously,  warping  his  kindlier  nature  with  all  of  its 
lessons,  of  stern,  unbending  obedience,  of  cold,  unsym 
pathetic  severity,  of  hard,  bitter  punishment  for  faults 
and  misdeeds,  and  he  had  felt  no  remorse  in  casting 
his  daughter  from  him. 

But  in  the  years  that  had  followed — years  of  wealth, 
of  ease  and  of  comfort,  years  in  which  his  mind  had 
been  broadened  by  contact  with  his  fellowmen — Mon 
sieur  Varain  had  come  slowly  to  realize  his  cruelty  to  his 
child,  and  the  fact  that  this  realization  had  come  too 
late  for  any  reparation  on  his  part  had  saddened  the 
years  of  his  wealth  and  influence. 

353 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

It  was  true,  as  some  of  the  women  said,  that  in  his 
great  house  at  Mouton  Monsier  Varain  was  lonely.  Its 
huge,  empty  rooms  seemed  to  mock  him  with  their 
eternal  silence  and  hurried  him  away  each  morning  to 
seek  refuge  from  his  loneliness  in  the  busy  life  at  the 
store.  He  could,  of  course,  have  found  many  who 
would  have  been  glad  to  brighten  this  loneliness  for 
him,  but  such  a  thing  as  that  had  never  entered  his 
brain.  He  had  been  married  once,  and  to  him  that 
chapter  of  his  life  was  closed  beyond  the  possibility  of 
being  ever  opened  again. 

And  so  he  had  lived  at  Mouton  a  lonely,  repentant 
old  man,  saddening  his  life  with  memories  of  the  past, 
until  he  had  met  Aline.  She  had  come  to  him  as  a  mes 
sage  of  forgiveness  from  his  daughter,  a  means  by 
which  he  could  make  a  partial  restitution  for  his  harsh 
ness  to  her,  and  he  had  sent  Aline  to  the  convent  and 
had  cared  for  her  as  a  matter  of  duty,  hoping  and 
praying  that  here  at  last  was  an  opportunity  to  make 
atonement  for  his  cruelty  in  the  days  gone  by.  But  as 
the  weeks  passed  on  Monsieur  Varain,  won  by  the 
girl's  love  and  gratitude,  grew  very  fond  of  her, 
and  he  came  to  wish  that  she  might  be  his  grand 
daughter,  not  so  much  for  her  mother's  sake  as  for  her 
own. 

And  so  it  was  that  the  fruitless  visits  of  Felix  to 
Landry  were  a  source  of  great  disappointment  to  him, 
even  as  his  frequent  visits  to  the  convent  were  a  great 
pleasure. 

It  was  now  his  habit  to  go  every  evening  to  the 
convent  garden  and  have  Aline  read  to  him,  a  thing 

354 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A   JOURNEY 

which  to  her  was  a  never-ending  delight,  for  she  felt 
that  in  this  way  she  could  in  a  manner  repay  him  for 
his  kindness  to  her.  Many  and  pleasant  were  the  hours 
that  they  spent  together  under  the  great  oaks,  the  girl 
reading  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  her  face  flushed  with 
happiness,  the  old  merchant  following  every  word  in 
silent  approval,  his  stern  gray  eyes  filled  with  a  tender 
ness  whenever  he  gazed  at  her,  his  cold,  hard  voice 
touched  with  a  softness  and  a  gentleness  whenever  he 
spoke  to  her,  that  if  known  to  the  people  at  Mouton 
would  have  caused  much  comment  among  them. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  meetings  in  the  convent 
garden,  upon  an  afternoon  early  in  November,  that 
Monsieur  Varain  first  spoke  to  Aline  of  her  father. 
The  girl,  who  had  been  reading  to  him,  paused  for  a 
moment  at  the  ending  of  a  chapter,  and  Monsieur 
Varain  laid  his  hand  kindly  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Wait  for  a  moment  before  you  begin  again,  my 
child,"  said  he.  "  There  is  something  that  I  would 
like  to  speak  to  you  about." 

Aline  closed  the  book  and  turned  to  him  expectantly. 

"Yes,  M'sieu?"  she  asked. 

"  It  is  of  your  father  that  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you,"  answered  he.  "  Do  you  remember  anything  of 
him?" 

For  a  moment  the  girl  was  silent,  her  fingers  straying 
slowly  over  the  great  book  in  her  lap,  and  then  she 
turned  to  Monsieur  Varain  with  a  curious  look  upon 
her  face,  a  look  half-puzzled,  half-sad,  yet  filled  with 
the  love  and  gratitude  that  she  felt  for  the  man  beside 
her. 

355 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  In  my  whole  life,"  said  she,  "  I  have  spoken  to  no 
one  of  my  father  save  only  my  Uncle  Telesse  and  my 
little  friend,  Jean  Le  Bossu,  and  in  all  this  world  I 
do  not  think  that  there  is  any  one  else  to  whom  I  would 
speak  of  him  save  you,  M'sieu.  You  have  been  so 
good  and  kind  to  me  that  I  will  tell  you  gladly  what  I 
know  of  my  poor  father,  but  what  I  know  is  little,  and 
it  is  very  sad. 

Her  voice  broke  a  little  as  she  finished  speaking. 

Monsieur  Varain  patted  her  upon  her  shoulder 
reassuringly. 

"  There,  there,  my  child,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
make  you  sad.  I  do  not  ask  you  of  your  father  from 
motives  of  pure  curiosity.  I  ask  you  for  your  own  good, 
and  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  will  repeat  what 
you  have  to  say  to  no  one." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  gazed  before  her  thought 
fully,  as  though  she  was  summoning  up  the  scenes  of 
the  past,  and  then  she  answered  him  slowly,  telling 
him  the  little  that  she  remembered  of  her  life  at  Lan- 
dry,  of  her  father  and  the  ring  that  he  had  given  her, 
of  his  death  and  of  her  life  in  the  Grand  Woods  which 
ended  with  her  going  to  Belrive. 

When  she  finally  finished  Monsieur  Varain  was 
silent  for  a  long  time,  thinking  of  what  she  had  told 
him. 

"  And  the  ring  that  your  father  gave  you,"  said  he 
at  last.  "  You  will  show  it  to  me,  will  you  not?  " 

Aline  smiled  sadly.  "  I  would  show  it  to  you  if  I 
had  it,  M'sieu/9  answered  she,  "  but  I  do  not  even  know 
where  it  is."  And  then  she  told  him  of  how  she  had 

356 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A    JOURNEY 

given  it  to  Numa  for  the  money  with  which  to  buy  her 
first  communion  dress  and  of  how  the  old  man  had 
been  beaten  in  his  attempt  to  get  it  for  her,  while 
Monsieur  Varain  scowled  and  knit  his  heavy  brows 
at  the  cruelty  of  her  wicked  lover. 

In  the  meantime,  while  these  two  were  talking,  a 
man  had  driven  up  to  the  convent  to  ask  for  Aline,  and, 
his  business  being  urgent,  he  was  taken  at  once  to  the 
garden,  where  the  girl,  catching  sight  of  him,  hurried 
forward  to  meet  him,  her  face  beaming. 

"  Oh,  Jean,"  she  cried,  "  is  it  really  you?  I  am  so 
glad  to  see  you.  And  how  is  my  uncle,  Jean?  And 
does  he  miss  me  and  want  me  to  come  home  again?  I 
have  been  reading  to  M' 'sieu  Varain,  reading  to  him  out 
of  a  great  book,  Jean,  the  sight  of  which  I  am  sure 
would  scare  you,  and  I  shall  read  to  you  also  if  you 
would  like  it." 

She  seized  the  little  man  eagerly  and  led  him  over 
to  Monsieur  Varain  before  he  could  say  a  word  in 
reply  to  her  many  questions. 

"  This  is  Jean  Le  Bossu  of  whom  I  have  told  you  so 
often,  M'sieu"  she  cried.  "  In  all  this  world  there  is 
no  one  who  loves  me  as  he  does." 

Monsieur  Varain  held  out  his  hand  and  smiled  kindly 
at  the  little  man. 

"  I  am  indeed  glad  to  meet  you,  Jean,"  said  he. 
"  Aline  has  spoken  to  me  of  you  so  often  that  I  have 
almost  felt  that  I  knew  you.  Have  you  come  all  the 
way  from  Landry  to  see  her?  That  is  truly  kind  of 
you  and  shows  that  you  love  her,  even  as  she  says 
you  do," 

357 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  little  man  shook  the  proffered  hand  and  stood 
eyeing  Monsieur  Varain  respectfully. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  Aline  for  her  uncle's  sake, 
M'sieu"  said  he.  "  I  bring  sad  news  from  the  old  man. 
For  many  days  he  has  been  sick  with  the  fever,  and  he 
calls  for  Aline  all  the  night  long,  for  he  cannot  sleep. 
M'sieu  le  Doctaire  Lemaire  has  said  that  she  must 
come  to  him  or  he  will  die." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  stood  silent,  as  though  dazed 
by  this  unexpected  misfortune,  and  then  she  turned 
upon  the  little  man  with  a  sob. 

"  Ah,  Jean!  "  she  cried,  u  why  did  you  not  come  to 
me  before  this,  when  he  wished  for  me  so.  Wait  but  a 
moment  while  I  get  some  clothes  and  we  will  go  to  him 
at  once.  But  why,  Jean,  did  you  not  come  before?  " 

"  He  would  not  let  us  send  for  you  until  to-day," 
answered  the  little  man  as  she  hurried  off  toward  the 
convent. 

Monsieur  Varain  turned  to  Le  Bossu.  "  This  is 
indeed  sad,  my  friend,"  said  he.  "  And  is  there  a 
chance  for  the  old  man's  recovery?  " 

"  Le  Doctaire  Lemaire  has  said  that  if  Aline  comes 
to  him  he  may  be  saved,"  replied  the  little  man.  "  She 
alone  can  soothe  him  to  sleep.  If  he  can  be  made  to 
sleep  the  fever  will  leave  him." 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded  gravely.  "  I  see,"  said  he. 
"  God  grant  that  Aline  may  save  him,  as  you  think  she 
will." 

"  Oui,  M'sieu"  replied  the  little  man  simply. 

For  a  while  the  two  were  silent,  each  of  them  looking 
toward  the  convent  where  Aline  had  disappeared  from 

358 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A    JOURNEY 

their  sight,  and  then  suddenly  Monsieur  Varain  leaned 
forward  in  his  chair  and  spoke  to  the  little  man 
earnestly. 

"  There  is  something  that  I  wish  very  much  to  know, 
Jean,"  said  he,  "  and  you  of  all  men  are  the  one  that 
I  think  can  tell  me.  As  you  must  know,  I  am  very 
much  interested  in  Aline,  and  this  evening,  just  before 
you  came,  for  the  first  time  since  I  have  known  her, 
I  asked  her  to  tell  me  of  her  childhood  and  of  her 
father.  She  told  me  all  that  she  remembered,  which  in 
a  way  was  a  great  deal,  and  which  in  a  way  also  was 
nothing.  There  are  many  gaps  in  her  story,  Jean, 
which  must  be  filled  up  before  it  is  complete,  and  I 
had  counted  upon  old  Telesse  to  fill  them  up  for  me.  I 
had  intended  driving  over  to  Landry  to-morrow  to  see 
him,  but  now  that  he  is  so  sick  the  gaps  must  remain 
unfilled  until  he  is  well  again.  However,  there  is  one 
gap  which  you  alone  can  fill,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
fill  it  for  me  when  I  assure  you  that  I  am  making  the 
inquiries  solely  for  Aline's  good  and  not  from  any 
motives  of  curiosity. 

"  When  she  told  me  her  story  a  while  ago  she  spoke 
of  a  ring  that  her  father  had  given  her  and  told  me 
that  this  ring  had  been  obtained  from  her  by  a  man 
named  Numa,  under  circumstances  which  you  of  course 
must  know.  She  further  told  me  that  she  does  not  now 
know  where  the  ring  is  and  that  you  know  this  Numa 
better  than  any  one  else  in  Landry.  Now  this  is  the 
very  important  gap  that  I  wish  you  to  fill  for  me, 
and  you  can  fill  it  by  telling  me  the  whereabouts  of 
Aline's  ring." 

359 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

He  ceased  speaking  and  eyed  the  little  man  ex 
pectantly. 

Le  Bossu  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  sorry,  M'sieu" 
said  he,  "  but  I  cannot  fill  the  gap  for  you.  Neither 
could  Numa  himself,  for  he  has  lost  the  ring  and  is 
fully  as  anxious  to  know  where  it  is  as  you  are." 

Monsieur  Varain  looked  disappointed.  "  Are  you 
sure  that  he  has  lost  it?"  he  asked  sharply.  "Are 
you  sure  that  he  is  not  deceiving  you?  " 

"  If  I  were  not  sure,  M'sieu,  I  would  not  have  told 
you  what  I  have,"  replied  the  little  man  slowly. 

Monsieur  Varain  saw  the  hurt  look  in  his  brown  eyes 
and  hastened  to  apologize  for  the  brusqueness  of  his 
question. 

"  There,  there,  Jean,  forgive,"  said  he.  "  I  might 
have  known  that  such  a  friend  of  yours  as  I  hear  Numa 
is  would  have  told  you  nothing  but  the  truth." 

The  little  man  shrugged  his  twisted  shoulders  and  a 
curious  look  came  over  his  pale  face. 

"  Such  a  friend  of  mine  as  Numa  is,  did  you  say?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  answered  Monsieur  Varain. 
"  He  must  certainly  think  a  great  deal  of  you,  his 
best  friend." 

The  little  man  gave  a  curious  laugh.  u  Ah,  yes, 
M'sieu,"  said  he.  "  I  am  his  best  friend.  His  very 
best  friend.  So  every  one  will  tell  you.  And  what  is  a 
best  friend  anyhow,  M'sieu?  Deep  in  the  forest  you 
will  find  the  tiny  wild  flowers  pushing  their  way  through 
the  long  grass.  Who  is  their  friend,  their  very  best 
friend?  The  spring,  is  it  not?  The  soft,  gentle  spring 

360 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A   JOURNEY 

with  its  warm  winds  and  its  strong,  hot  sunlight.  It 
nourishes  the  wild  flowers  tenderly  and  raises  them 
green  and  straight  toward  the  blue  heavens,  and  then, 
M'sieu,  all  of  a  sudden  it  changes.  The  sun  hides  him 
self  behind  the  gray  clouds,  the  wind  comes  wild  and 
cold  from  the  north,  and  what  of  the  wild  flowers? 
They  wither  and  droop  and  finally  fall  all  dead  and 
brown  to  the  cold  black  earth  again,  and  the  tall  grass 
closes  over  them  like  a  grave,  hiding  them  from  the 
light  of  heaven.  That  is  the  sort  of  friend  that  the 
spring  is  to  the  wild  flowers  and  that  is  the  sort  of 
friend  that  I  am  to  Numa." 

The  little  man  ceased  speaking  and  stood  for  a 
moment  with  blazing  eyes  and  quivering  body,  over 
come  by  the  emotions  that  filled  him. 

Monsieur  Varain  looked  puzzled.  "  But  I  do  not 
understand,"  said  he.  "  Is  Numa,  then,  your  enemy?  " 

The  little  man  smiled  bitterly.  "  Ah !  No  one 
understands,  M*si£u"  he  replied.  "  No  one  in  the 
world  knows  save  myself,  but  you  shall  all  know  some 
day,  I  promise  you." 

Monsieur  Varain  shook  his  head  slowly.  "  You  are 
a  curious  fellow,  Jean,"  said  he,  "  and  I  cannot  pre 
tend  to  understand  you.  You  will  let  me  know  if  ever 
you  see  this  ring  again,  will  you  not?  " 

"  I  will,  M'sieu,"  answered  the  little  man.  "  I 
promise  you." 

"  And  here  comes  Aline,"  said  Monsieur  Varain, 
rising  to  his  feet.  "  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  gate  and 
see  her  leave." 

The  girl  came  toward  them  quickly,  her  little  bundle 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

of  clothes  clasped  under  one  arm,  her  head  turned 
every  now  and  then  to  nod  farewell  to  the  dark  group 
of  sisters  who  were  watching  her  from  the  convent 
doorway.  Her  eyes  were  red  from  recent  weeping, 
but  she  smiled  bravely  when  Monsieur  Varain  spoke  to 
her. 

1  You  will  come  back  again  when  your  uncle  is  bet 
ter,  will  you  not?  "  he  asked  as  they  hurried  out  toward 
the  jumper. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu"  answered  the  girl,  "  I  shall  be  glad 
to  come  back  again." 

"  I  shall  miss  you  very  much  while  you  are  gone,  my 
child,"  said  Monsieur  Varain  gruffly,  to  hide  the  tone 
of  sadness  in  his  voice. 

When  they  came  out  of  the  convent  yard  onto  the 
banquette  Le  Bossu  jumped  down  into  the  road  to  untie 
the  horse. 

Monsieur  Varain  approached  the  girl  awkwardly  and 
for  a  moment  his  stern  face  was  flushed  with  embarrass 
ment. 

"  There  is  a  favor  that  I  would  ask  of  you,  my 
child,"  he  faltered.  "  If  you  would  not  mind  kissing 
an  old  man  like  myself  it  would  please  me — it  would 
please  me  more -" 

In  a  moment  the  girl's  arms  were  about  his  neck  and 
a  pair  of  warm  lips  met  his  own,  flooding  him  with  a 
wave  of  peace  and  happiness  that  was  like  strong  wine 
to  his  cold,  lonely  old  heart. 

"  Farewell,  M'sieu"  said  Aline.  "  I  shall  be  very 
lonely  for  you,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  love  and  kind 
ness  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

362 


LE    BOSSU    MAKES   A    JOURNEY 

Monsieur  Varain  helped  her  into  the  battered 
jumper  with  as  much  ceremony  as  though  she  had  been 
a  princess. 

"  Farewell,  my  child,"  said  he  as  she  drove  away. 
u  May  God  keep  you  until  we  meet  again." 

He  stood  upon  the  high  wooden  banquette  and  gazed 
after  the  jumper  long  after  it  had  reached  the  end  of 
the  street  and  passed  from  his  view.  Then  he  turned 
and  walked  slowly  toward  the  business  part  of  the  town, 
and  the  old  look  of  sadness  and  of  loneliness  came  back 
gradually  upon  his  face  as  he  went  along. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

THAT  Dr.  Lemaire  prophesied  correctly  in  the 
matter  of  Aline's  return  to  Belrive  was  proved 
soon  after  her  arrival,  for  the  old  man,  under 
her  soothing  influence,  sank  into  a  deep  sleep  that  went 
far  to  break  the  violence  of  his  fever.     However,  he 
recovered  slowly  on  account  of  his  age,  and  the  chances 
of  Aline's  returning  to  the  convent  before  the  Christ 
mas  holidays  were  small  indeed. 

In  these  days  she  saw  a  great  deal  of  Marjorie,  who 
was  back  from  the  seashore,  bringing  news  of  Miss 
Lawrence's  engagement  to  a  young  man  from  New 
Orleans,  and  hinting  vaguely  of  a  similar  affair  herself, 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  torturing  Tom  Bayne. 

Tom,  writhing  under  this  torture,  began  to  haunt 
Belrive,  riding  over  at  all  hours  of  the  day  with  many 
strange  excuses  for  his  doing  so,  until  he  discovered  that 
Marjorie  went  each  morning  to  the  old  man's  cabin 
with  some  delicacy  from  the  big  house.  After  this  he 
always  joined  her  upon  these  expeditions,  and  he  would 
have  even  gone  as  far  as  to  help  in  the  preparation  of 
the  delicacies  if  Marjorie  had  let  him,  such  was  his 
apparent  interest  in  the  old  man. 

364 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

Carey  was  also  interested  in  the  old  man's  illness, 
but  he  visited  the  cabin  seldom.  Why  this  was  he 
hardly  knew  himself,  except  that  there  now  lurked 
within  him  a  vague  fear  that  he  might  see  too  much  of 
Aline. 

The  news  of  Miss  Lawrence's  engagement  had  come 
to  him  without  one  pang  of  regret,  and  this,  he  told 
himself,  was  truly  a  strange  state  of  mind  for  one  who 
had  been  but  recently  in  love  with  that  charming  young 
lady.  There  must  surely  be  some  reason,  he  argued, 
and  although  he  could  have  found  it,  could  have  found 
it  easily  in  fact,  he  did  not  care  to  think  of  it. 

Therefore  he  shunned  the  old  man's  cabin,  striving 
vainly  to  prove  to  himself  that  what  was  so  was  not 
so.  Filled  with  a  strange  unrest  he  rode  moody  and 
silent  about  the  plantation  all  day,  spending  his  evenings 
with  gun  and  dog  at  Belrive's  little  lake,  where  the 
incoming  flights  of  duck  were  beginning  to  afford  some 
excellent  passe  shooting. 

One  cold  November  evening  as  he  was  walking,  gun 
in  hand,  down  the  plantation  road,  his  overseer  called 
to  him  from  a  distant  part  of  the  field.  Carey  sat  down 
upon  one  of  the  levees  and  waited  for  Wilson  to  come 
up  to  him,  which  he  finally  did  after  a  spirited  con 
troversy  with  his  horse  concerning  the  crossing  of  the 
main  canal. 

"  I  jest  don't  guess  you  expected  to  see  us  doin'  any 
plowin'  this  afternoon,  did  you?  "  asked  Wilson  cheer 
fully,  as  he  pulled  up  in  the  road  before  Carey. 

"  No,"  answered  Carey.  "  I  thought  that  it  would 
be  too  cold." 

365 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  The  niggers  thought  so,  too,"  replied  Wilson,  "  but 
I  didn't.  We'd  call  this  sort  of  weather  a  mild  summer 
up  in  Nebrasky,  and  the  children'd  be  goin'  round  bare 
footed  and  talkin'  'bout  takin'  in  the  swimmin'  hole." 

He  leaned  forward  in  his  saddle,  chuckling  at  his 
joke. 

"  Well,"  said  Carey,  "  I'm  going  to  my  old  swim 
ming  hole  myself  this  evening,  but  I  don't  think  that 
I'll  go  in.  I'm  after  duck."  He  tapped  the  gun  that 
lay  across  his  knees  significantly. 

"  S'that  so?"  asked  the  overseer.  "I  thought 
mebby  you  was  gunnin'  for  some  one,"  and  then  sud 
denly  his  face  took  on  a  serious  look.  u  See  here,  Mr. 
Gordon,"  said  he  slowly,  "  speakin'  'bout  your  gunnin' 
for  somebody  brings  me  to  what  I  want  to  say  to  you. 
Now  I  don't  want  you  to  think  that  I've  been  meddlin' 
in  your  affairs,  but  I've  been  hearin'  a  whole  lot  of 
things  and  I  feel  like  it's  my  duty  to  tell  you  about  'em. 
There's  a  Spanish-Mexican  sort  of  feller  named  Numa 
Le  Blanc  over  to  Landry  who's  been  makin'  all  sorts 
of  threats  against  you,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  to  watch 
out  for  him.  From  what  I  hear — which  has  been 
mostly  from  the  niggers — he's  gotten  it  into  his  head 
that  you're  stuck  on  his  girl,  old  Telesse's  Aline,  and  he 
swears  that  if  you  don't  leave  her  alone  he's  goin'  to 
shoot  you.  Now  of  course  I  know  all  that  he's  said 
is  foolishness  pure  and  simple,  but  from  what  I've 
heard  he's  a  pretty  bad  proposition  and  it  won't  hurt 
you  to  keep  an  eye  on  him.  If  I  was  you  I'd  dress  up 
in  a  gun  for  a  while  until  I  found  out  whether  he  means 
business  or  not." 

366 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

The  overseer  laughed  as  he  finished  speaking,  but 
his  voice  was  earnest  and  there  was  a  look  in  his  eye 
which  meant  that,  to  him,  the  matter  was  a  serious  one. 

Carey  sat  for  a  moment  in  thoughtful  silence  and 
then,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  went  over  to  Wilson  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  Nick,"  said  he.  "  YouVe  done  me  a 
kindness,  and  I'll  keep  my  eyes  open.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I've  had  trouble  with  this  fellow  some 
time  ago,  and  it  was  about  the  old  man's  niece  also." 
And  then  he  told  the  overseer  about  the  dance  and  his 
fight  in  the  moonlight  with  Numa. 

When  he  had  finished  Wilson  put  his  hand  behind 
him  and  drew  forth  a  revolver.  It  was  an  old  frontier 
"  Colt's,"  long  and  heavy  and  worn  bright  from  many 
years'  usage,  and  the  overseer,  laying  it  upon  the  pom 
mel  of  his  saddle,  patted  it  fondly. 

"  Do  you  see  that  gun?  "  he  asked.  "  I've  carried 
it  for  thirty  years,  and  if  I  was  to  go  out  without  it 
I'd  feel  as  if  I  was  undressed.  That  gun's  saved  my 
life  a  good  many  times,  and  I  remember  once  in  par 
ticular  when  it  kept  me  from  bein'  put  away  by  jest 
such  a  sneakin'  devil  as  that  feller  Numa  is. 

"  It  was  when  I  was  little  more'n  a  boy,  and  I  was 
drivin'  sheep  over  the  old  South  Trail  from  Mexico 
to  Freemont,  Nebrasky.  On  that  trip  I  was  foreman 
of  the  ewe  herd,  and  perhaps  you  don't  think  I  had  my 
hands  full. 

"  One  of  the  things  that  used  to  bother  me  most  was 

the  way  the  boys'd  steal  from  the  different  homesteads 

.we  used  to  pass  on  our  way  north.    There  was  a  Mexi- 

36? 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

can  in  the  outfit  that  was  the  worst  of  the  lot,  and  I  laid 
out  to  ketch  him  and  make  an  example  of  him  for  the 
rest. 

"  Well,  one  day  I  come  in  camp  from  herdin',  jest 
about  sundown,  and  there  was  that  Mexican  with  a  big 
pile  of  potatoes  he'd  stole  that  day.  You  see,  potatoes 
was  somethin'  of  a  luxury,  as  we  didn't  have  no  room 
for  none  in  the  trail  wagon,  and  this  here  Mexican  was 
kneelin'  before  a  little  fire  he'd  made,  peelin'  potatoes 
with  a  big  butcher  knife  and  fixhV  to  have  the  time  of 
his  life. 

"  I  was  so  mad  when  I  seen  him  that  I  couldn't  think 
of  a  cuss  word  to  save  my  life,  and  when  I  lit  into  him 
I  was  tremblin'  like  an  old  man. 

1  Now  you  jest  take  them  potatoes  back  where  you 
got  'em,'  says  I,  '  and  if  the  man  you  stole  'em  from 
shoots  the  hell  out  of  you  before  you  can  explain  things 
to  him  I  won't  have  a  word  to  say.' 

"  He  looked  at  me  for  a  second  or  two  out  of  his 
little  beady  eyes,  and  then  he  jumped  at  me  quick  like 
a  cat — with  that  big  butcher  knife  in  one  hand.  But 
I  was  too  cute  for  him,  I  threw  my  gun  on  him  and  he 
stopped  short,  like  his  works  had  sort  of  run  down, 
and  then  he  smiled  sort  of  sickly  and  made  out  like 
he'd  only  been  foolin'. 

"  '  Ah,  Senor  Wilson,'  says  he,  '  you  don't  think  I 
mean  to  hurt  you  ?  ' 

"  And  then  he  come  at  me  with  both  arms  wide 
open,  like  he  was  goin'  to  hug  me,  grinnin'  for  all  he 
was  worth,  and  I'll  be  damned  if  he  didn't  have  the 
butcher  knife  still  in  his  hand. 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

"  This  time  I  beat  him  over  the  head  with  my  gun, 
good  and  hard,  and  he  went  down  at  my  feet  all  in  a 
bunch.  When  he  come  to,  I  give  him  his  money  and 
some  mighty  good  advice. 

"  '  Pull  out,'  says  I,  '  and  don't  show  up  around  me 
again  unless  you  want  to  get  shot  up  for  keeps.  And 
there's  jest  one  thing  more  I  want  to  tell  you.  The 
next  time  you  want  to  hug  a  man  with  a  butcher  knife, 
put  it  up  your  sleeve.  You  might  run  across  some  mis 
guided  sport  some  day  who  wouldn't  understand  your 
motives  and  would  shoot  you  up  under  the  mistaken 
idee  that  you  meant  to  whittle  his  spine.' 

"  And  that's  the  way  it  is  with  these  Spanish-Mexi 
can  sort  of  people,  Mr.  Gordon.  You  want  to  watch 
out  for  'em  when  they're  smilin'  and  friendly,  for  that's 
the  very  time  they're  fixin'  to  do  you  up." 

He  ceased  speaking  and  thrust  the  revolver  back  into 
its  holster  again. 

Carey,  who  had  followed  the  story  closely,  swung  his 
gun  across  his  shoulder  with  a  laugh. 

"  All  right,  Nick,"  said  he.  "  If  Numa  tries  to  hug 
me  with  a  butcher  knife  I'll  knock  him  over  the  head, 
just  as  you  did.  And  I'll  carry  a  gun  and  look  out  for 
him,  as  you  advise,"  he  went  on  more  seriously. 

Wilson  nodded  approvingly.  "  That's  right,  Mr. 
Gordon,"  said  he.  "  You  can't  be  too  keerful  when 
you're  mixin'  up  with  people  like  this  here  Numa.  I 
guess  I'll  go  back  to  the  plows  now  unless  you  have 
somethin'  else  for  me  to  do.  The  niggers  are  liable 
to  start  rattin',  and  it  won't  do  to  let  'em  get  into  the 
habit"  And  with  a  cheery  "  So  long,"  he  rode  across 

369 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

the  field  to  the  plows,  his  horse  stumbling  and  tripping 
over  the  rough,  uneven  clods  of  earth. 

Carey  started  off  down  the  plantation  road,  and  walk 
ing  briskly  (both  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour 
and  the  coldness  of  the  wind)  he  arrived  upon  the 
borders  of  the  lake  just  as  the  shadows  of  the  night 
were  beginning  to  fall  softly  about  him. 

This  lake,  as  it  was  called,  was  a  long,  shallow  piece 
of  water,  lying  in  a  slight  depression  of  the  pasture 
land  at  Belrive,  grown  thick  in  some  places  with  great 
clumps  of  rushes,  flowing  smooth  and  clear  in  others,  an 
ideal  spot  for  duck  and  other  waterfowl.  In  the  soft, 
muddy  ground  upon  its  borders  a  quantity  of  snipe  were 
always  to  be  found,  and  as  Carey  splashed  his  way 
toward  the  clump  of  rushes  upon  the  water's  edge  they 
darted  out  from  under  his  feet,  and  flying  close  to  the 
ground  whipped  away  with  a  tantalizing  u  scape,"  well 
knowing  that  he  could  not  ^see  to  shoot  them  in  the 
half-light. 

Crouching  down  in  his  shelter  of  rushes  Carey  waited 
for  the  duck  and  swore  softly  to  himself,  for  he  had 
forgotten  to  bring  his  dog  and  he  knew  that  should  he 
kill  anything  he  would  be  forced  to  wade  out  waist-deep 
in  the  icy  water  to  get  it. 

For  a  long  time  he  knelt  in  the  damp,  muddy  blind 
waiting,  while  the  darkness  fell,  and  the  scene  before 
him  became  indescribably  drear. 

The  water  stretched  away  in  a  long,  pale  sheet — cold 
and  gray,  like  steel — mirroring  the  dull,  leaden  sky 
that  caused  it  to  shimmer  in  a  faint,  uncanny  way.  The 
scattered  clumps  of  rushes  rose  white  and  ghostly  in  the 

370 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

thin  cloud,  half-fog,  half-mist,  that  hung  low  above 
the  water. 

The  duck  now  began  to  arrive,  swishing  across  the 
lake  in  ones  and  twos — quick  and  sure,  like  a  flash  of 
white  light  against  the  darkness  of  the  sky.  Carey  fired 
again  and  again,  the  reports  rolling  out  like  thunder 
in  the  silence  about  him,  but  the  wind  was  strong,  the 
light  was  poor  and  the  duck  flashed  away  to  the  distant 
sea  marsh  and  safer  feeding  grounds. 

After  a  time,  growing  tired  of  his  ill-luck,  he  rose 
from  his  cramped  position  and  stretched  his  aching 
limbs.  For  a  moment  he  stood  in  the  rushes  beating  the 
warmth  into  his  numb  body,  and  then  as  he  looked  out 
across  the  little  strip  of  marsh  that  separated  the  lake 
from  the  pasture  he  saw  a  man  splashing  his  way  toward 
him,  his  figure  sharply  silhouetted  against  the  sky-line. 

The  man  had  a  gun  thrown  carelessly  across  one 
shoulder,  and  as  Carey  gazed  at  him  his  heart  suddenly 
gave  a  great  throb  and  his  nerves  stretched  tight  and 
tingling,  for  in  the  dim  half-light  he  saw  that  it  was 
Numa.  In  a  moment  his  conversation  with  the  overseer 
came  back  to  him  with  its  warning  and  tale  of  treachery, 
and  his  hand  fell  quickly  upon  the  breech  of  his  gun, 
throwing  back  the  hammers  with  a  faint,  metallic  click. 

The  sharp  ears  of  Numa  caught  the  sound  and  he 
halted  a  few  feet  from  Carey  with  a  low,  scornful 
laugh. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  M'sieu"  said  he,  laying  his  gun 
upon  the  ground.  "  I  have  come  to  talk,  not  to  fight. 
See,  I  have  put  my  weapon  down.  Now  I  will  come  to 
you  and  tell  you  what  I  have  to  say." 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

He  came  a  little  forward. 

Carey  lowered  his  gun,  but  he  eyed  the  man  before 
him  carefully,  one  finger  curled  in  readiness  about  the 
trigger. 

"  Say  what  you  have  to  say  and  do  not  come  any 
closer,"  said  he.  "  I  have  heard  of  the  threats  that  you 
have  made  against  me  in  Landry,  and  I  have  also  been 
warned  against  your  treachery.  Do  not  try  any  tricks 
with  me,  for  I  tell  you  frankly  that  if  you  do  I  will 
shoot  you  where  you  stand." 

Reaching  down  Numa  broke  off  a  spear  of  the  long 
marsh  grass  and  twisted  it  coolly  about  his  finger  before 
replying. 

"So  you  have  heard  of  my  threats,  M'sieu?"  he 
asked.  "  I  thought  that  you  would.  It  is  true  that  I 
made  them,  and  I  will  not  deny  to  you  that  you  are  my 
enemy.  I  hate  you,  M'sieu.  My  God,  how  I  hate 
you !  " 

His  eyes  blazed  and  he  clenched  his  brown  hands 
desperately  in  his  fury. 

Carey's  gun  was  up  in  a  moment,  but  the  man  before 
him  stood  as  immovable  as  a  statue,  and  he  slowly  low 
ered  it  again. 

Numa  shook  his  head.  "  No,  no,  M'sieu"  said  he. 
"  I  meant  nothing.  It  was  my  bad  temper,  that  is  all. 
That  is  over  now,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  to 
say.  It  is  about  the  girl  Aline,  M'sieu.  I  love  her — 
ah,  God !  how  I  love  her — and  she  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  me.  Ever  since  the  day  when  I  hurt  her 
uncle  at  Landry  she  has  hated  me,  she  has  despised 
me.  It  was  my  bad  temper,  M'sieu.  I  knew  not  what 

372 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

I  was  doing.  I  have  begged  her  to  excuse  my  weakness, 
I  have  promised  her  to  lead  a  better  life,  but  she  only 
shakes  her  head  and  sends  me  away  without  a  word. 
You  do  not  know  how  I  love  her,  M'sieu.  Since  she 
has  refused  to  speak  to  me  my  life  has  been  as  dark 
and  cold  as  the  lake  before  you." 

He  bowed  his  head  in  the  bitterness  of  his  despair 
and  his  breath  came  short  and  sobbing. 

Carey  looked  at  him  curiously  and  let  his  gun  down 
until  its  stock  rested  upon  the  ground.  He  knew  that 
for  the  time  being  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  man 
before  him. 

"  This  may  all  be  very  hard  upon  you  as  you  say 
it  is,"  he  replied,  "  but  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have 
brought  it  upon  yourself  by  your  own  wickedness.  Also 
I  cannot  imagine  why  you  are  telling  me  this,  as  I  can 
in  no  way  help  you." 

"  But  you  can,  M'sieu!'  cried  Numa.  "  You  can 
speak  to  Aline  for  me  and  she  will  forgive  me." 

Carey  laughed.  "  Do  you  suppose,"  he  asked,  "  that 
Aline  will  forgive  you  the  wrong  that  you  have  done 
her  simply  because  I  ask  her  to?  " 

"  I  know  that  she  will,"  replied  Numa  slowly.  "  She 
loves  you,  M'sieu.  That  is  why  I  hate  you  so." 

His  voice  was  low  and  full  of  pain,  as  though  it  tor 
tured  him  to  say  the  words  that  he  was  speaking. 

Carey's  face  went  white  and  he  caught  his  breath 
sharply.  A  feeling  of  happiness  seized  him  and  he 
fought  against  it  angrily. 

*  You  say  that  she  loves  me?  "  he  gasped.  "  Why 
do  you  say  that,  when  you  know  that  it  is  not  so?  " 

373 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  It  is  so,  M'sieu,"  answered  Numa  slowly.  "  I  have 
seen  it  in  her  eyes  when  she  was  speaking  of  you.  A 
jealous  lover  is  the  most  watchful  of  all  people." 

"  And  do  you  suppose,"  asked  Carey  angrily,  "  that 
even  if  Aline  were  to  listen  to  my  defense  of  you  I 
would  speak  to  her?  Do  you  think  that  I  would  help 
to  bind  her  to  a  wild,  drunken  creature  like  yourself? 
You  must  be  mad,  crazy,  to  ask  such  a  thing." 

Numa  smiled  sadly.  He  had  himself  well  in  hand 
now  and  he  spoke  quietly. 

"  You  are  wrong  in  what  you  are  saying,"  replied  he. 
"  I  know  that  I  am  a  wild,  bad  creature,  but  it  is  all  on 
account  of  this  girl.  If  I  had  her  love  I  would  be  a 
different  man.  I  am  a  creature  of  passions,  M'sieu,  of 
fierce,  bad  passions,  and  I  am  mad  with  love.  Some 
times  I  am  even  afraid  of  myself.  There  is  but  one 
person  in  all  this  world  that  can  save  me,  and  that  per 
son  is  Aline.  Ah,  M'sieu,  if  you  only  knew  how  I  love 
her  you  would  speak  for  me,  you  would  indeed.  It  is 
the  only  thing  that  will  save  me,  the  only  thing.  Will 
you  not  speak,  M'sieu?  For  the  love  of  God  say  '  yes  ' 
to  me."  He  stretched  out  his  arms  imploringly. 

Carey  shook  his  head.  "  I  cannot  do  it,"  said  he. 
"  It  would  not  be  right.  There  is  no  use  to  ask  me  any 
more,  for  I  cannot  do  it." 

Numa's  face  grew  dark  and  his  voice  rose  angrily. 
"  Ah,  I  see,"  he  cried.  "  You  love  her  also,  M'sieu. 
You  wish  her  for  yourself." 

He  paused,  his  rage  now  too  great  for  words. 

In  an  instant  Carey  stood  over  him,  his  face  white 
as  death,  his  arm  half-raised  as  though  for  a  blow. 

374 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

"  If  ever  you  speak  to  me  like  that  again  I  will  kill 
you,"  said  he  slowly.  "  Now  go  before  I  forget  myself 
and  shoot  you  for  the  lie  that  you  have  just  told."  He 
turned  away  as  he  spoke,  but  Numa  called  to  him 
beseechingly. 

"  M'sieu,  M'sieu,"  he  cried.  "  Forgive  me.  For 
give  me.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  meant  nothing.  It  was 
my  jealousy  that  made  me  speak  to  you  as  I  did.  If 
you  do  not  love  this  girl  why  then  will  you  not  speak 
for  me  ?  I  swear  to  you  upon  the  cross,  upon  the  grave 
of  my  father,  that  if  she  forgives  me  I  will  lead  a  differ 
ent  life,  that  I  will  never  touch  liquor  again.  She  is  the 
only  one  that  can  save  me,  can  make  me  the  man  that  I 
ought  to  be.  Will  you  not  speak  for  me,  M'sieu?  It 
is  nothing  for  you  to  do  and  it  will  mean  so  much 
for  me." 

Again  Carey  shook  his  head  and  turned  to  go.  "  I 
have  told  you  that  I  cannot  do  it,"  said  he. 

Numa  ran  after  him  and  seized  him  by  the  arm.  He 
was  sobbing  now  and  his  eyes  were  wild.  Far  away  in 
the  distance  shone  the  lights  of  the  big  house,  tiny  dots 
of  yellow  that  came  and  went  fitfully  as  the  wind  swayed 
the  trees  before  them,  and  Numa  pointing  to  these 
lights  made  his  last  passionate  appeal. 

"  See,  M'sieu,"  he  cried  pitifully.  "  There  are  the 
lights  of  your  home.  In  a  few  moments  you  will  go  to 
them,  to  warmth,  to  wealth  and  comfort.  There  you 
will  see  the  ones  that  you  love,  that  love  you,  and  they 
will  cheer  you  and  make  you  happy.  And  what  becomes 
of  me?  "  He  pointed  to  the  wild,  dreary  scene  behind 
him. 

375 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

u  I  shall  go  out  there,  M'sieu,"  he  wailed,  "  far  out 
there  in  the  cold,  the  wet  and  the  dark,  to  the  Grand 
Woods.  I  shall  go  to  my  empty  cabin,  and  there  will 
be  no  voice  to  greet  me,  no  loving  ones  to  cheer  me. 
There  will  be  nothing  but  the  moaning  of  the  wind  and 
the  rustling  of  the  trees.  Think  of  what  you  go  to  and 
of  what  I  go  to,  M'sieu.  You  have  all  and  I  have 
nothing.  God !  Can  you  wonder  that  I  wish  for  one  to 
cheer  my  loneliness?  Ah!  M'sieu,  do  not  refuse  me, 
for  if  you  do  I  am  lost." 

He  fell  upon  his  knees  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
trembling  hands. 

There  was  a  ring  of  truth,  of  pain  in  his  voice  that 
went  straight  to  Carey's  heart  and  he  raised  the  kneel 
ing  man  to  his  feet,  speaking  to  him  kindly. 

"  Listen,  Numa,"  said  he.  "  I  am  going  to  do  what 
you  ask,  because  I  believe  that  you  really  mean  what 
you  say.  I  did  not  think  that  you  loved  this  girl  as 
much  as  you  do,  and  I  am  sure  that  through  this  same 
love  you  will  be  kind  to  her  if  she  forgives  you.  Now 
I  am  going  to  make  a  bargain  with  you,  and  if  you  will 
do  what  I  ask  you  I  will  speak  to  Aline." 

u  I  will  do  anything,  anything,  M'sieu,"  answered 
Numa  brokenly. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Carey,  "  here  is  the  bargain.  For 
one  week  you  will  not  see  Aline  or  you  will  not  com 
municate  with  her  in  any  way.  During  that  time  I 
will  speak  to  her  for  you  and  will  do  all  in  my  power 
to  make  her  forgive  you.  A  little  before  sunset  on  the 
last  day  of  the  week  you  will  go  to  see  Aline.  I  will 
tell  her  that  you  are  coming  and  she  will  see  you.  You 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

will  ask  her  then  if  she  will  forgive  you  and  if  she 
will  marry  you.  Should  she  say  yes  I  wish  you  all 
the  luck  in  the  world.  Should  she  say  no  you  must 
promise  me  that  you  will  never  see  her  or  speak  to  her 
again,  for  it  would  only  annoy  her  and  make  you 
unhappy.  This  is  my  bargain  and  if  you  will  promise 
to  carry  out  your  part  of  it  I  will  promise  to  carry  out 


mine." 


Numa  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  'have  wronged  you  in 
thinking  you  my  enemy,  M'sieu"  said  he.  "  Forgive 
me.  I  promise  you  that  I  will  carry  out  my  part  of 
the  bargain." 

Carey  took  the  hand  which  was  extended  toward 
him.  "  And  I  promise  you  that  for  one  week  I  will 
do  all  in  my  power  to  exonerate  you  in  the  eyes  of 
Aline,"  he  replied.  "  On  the  morning  of  the  eighth 
day  I  will  go  to  the  cabin  and  learn  of  your  success  or 
of  your  failure,  whichever  it  may  be.  And  now  good 
night  and — and — good  luck  to  you." 

He  pronounced  the  last  words  haltingly,  as  though 
it  cost  him  an  effort  to  say  them. 

Numa  lifted  his  hand  to  his  hat  for  a  moment,  an 
homage  that  in  all  his  life  he  had  paid  to  no  man. 
"  You  have  a  kind  heart,  M'sieu,"  said  he,  "  and  in  the 
days  to  come  I  shall  look  upon  you,  whom  I  have 
thought  my  enemy,  as  my  friend.  Good  night,  M'sieu, 
and  thank  you." 

As  he  strode  away  Carey  followed  him  with  his  eyes, 
until  he  had  picked  up  his  gun  and  disappeared  in  the 
darkness,  for,  fearing  treachery,  he  did  not  care  to  turn 
his  back  upon  this  man. 

377 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  he  to  himself  as  he  gazed  at  the 
vanishing  figure,  "  that  a  man  who  can  love  a  woman 
so  should  be  so  unworthy  of  her." 

As  he  walked  back  toward  the  big  house  his  mind 
was  in  a  tumult.  What  had  he  done,  he  asked  himself. 
Would  he  be  the  instrument  by  means  of  which  this 
girl  would  throw  away  her  life  upon  the  wicked,  worth 
less  man  to  whom  he  had  given  his  promise?  Had  he 
in  a  fit  of  compassion,  in  a  moment  of  pity,  brought 
about  by  a  carefully  worded  tale  of  sorrow,  promised 
to  destroy  the  peace  and  happiness  of  Aline,  to  whom 
he  had  always  been  as  a  protector?  If  Aline  loved  him 
as  Numa  said  she  did,  would  she  not  forgive  this  man 
by  reason  of  her  love  for  him?  And  if  she  did  forgive 
Numa,  would  he  lead  a  better  life  as  he  had  promised 
to  do? 

He  was  furious  with  himself  for  falling  into  the  trap 
that  had  been  so  cleverly  laid  for  him. 

And  then  again  he  asked  himself,  should  Aline  for 
give  Numa  and  should  he  lead  a  better  life  as  he  had 
promised,  had  he  not  done  a  good  deed?  Would  he 
not  make  two  people  happy?  Would  he  not  be  happy 
himself  at  having  brought  about  this  happiness  to 
others  ? 

He  paused  suddenly  aghast  at  the  cold  fear  that 
came  over  him.  "  Would  it  make  such  a  difference 
to  him  if  Aline  were  to  marry  Numa?  "he  asked 
himself. 

The  time  had  now  come  when  he  must  answer  this 
question. 

For  a  long  while  he  stood  silent,  fighting  this  fight 

378 


NICHOLAS    WILSON    GIVES    A    WARNING 

with  himself,  and  then  he  raised  his  face  to  the  dull 
sky  above  him. 

uOh,  God!"  he  cried,  "  let  her  refuse  him.  ^  Let 
her  refuse  him.  Numa  was  right  in  what  he  said,  if 
not  in  what  he  meant,  for  I  do  love  her,  and  I  want 
her  for  myself." 


379 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

NUMA  SETTLES  AN  OLD  SCORE 

IT  was  late  the  next  morning  when,  after  a  night  of 
drunkenness  at  the  coffee  house,  Numa  set  out  from 
Landry. 

It  was  later  still  when  he  rode  away  from  the  house 
of  old  Victor,  a  cruel  smile  twisting  his  lips  as  he  thought 
of  the  mission  of  vengeance  that  he  had  accomplished. 

Passing  the  place  a  short  while  before  he  had  seen 
Jeanne  and  had  called  to  her  to  come  out  to  him.  Then, 
sullen  and  angry  from  the  effects  of  his  debauch,  the 
sight  of  her  had  aroused  the  cruelty  that  ever  lay  dor 
mant  within  him,  and  he  had  determined  to  vent  his 
spite  upon  her.  He  had  also  thought  of  his  bargain 
with  Carey,  of  his  last  desperate  chance  for  happiness, 
and  he  had  determined  that  he  would  humble  this  girl 
and  so  settle  the  matter  for  good  and  all  before  he 
received  Aline's  final  answer. 

So  he  had  told  her  of  the  time  she  had  mocked  him 
when  he  had  tried  to  sell  his  birds  in  Landry,  of  his 
pretended  love  for  her  and  of  his  real  love  for  Aline, 
while  she  had  listened  to  it  all,  white  and  speechless, 
unable  in  her  despair  to  utter  a  word  of  protest.  Then 
he  had  thanked  her  for  her  usefulness  to  him  as  a  foil 

380 


NUMA    SETTLES   AN    OLD    SCORE 

in  his  quest  for  Aline,  and  with  a  mocking  smile  had 
ridden  away  for  his  stay  in  the  Grand  Woods. 

Jeanne  leaned  over  her  little  front  gate  and  watched 
him  until  he  vanished  up  the  street.  Then  she  turned 
away  with  a  sob  and  very  slowly  went  to  her  room, 
where  she  threw  herself  across  the  bed  and  wept  with 
mingled  shame  and  disappointment. 

When  the  first  wild  rush  of  her  grief  was  over  she 
arose  and  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed  to  think.  The 
blow  was  a  hard  one,  for,  despite  his  treachery,  she 
knew  that  she  still  loved  Numa  and  would  love  him  for 
all  time.  Women  such  as  she  give  their  love  but  once, 
and  then  give  it  so  thoroughly  that  they  can  never  take 
it  back  again. 

So  it  was  by  reason  of  this  very  love  that  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  the  thought  of  harming  Numa. 
Yet  this  insult  must  be  revenged.  To  punish  him  and 
yet  have  him  come  to  no  harm,  that  was  the  question. 

And  now  she  thought  of  the  girl  Aline,  and  her  eyes 
snapped  viciously.  Here  was  the  solution.  She  was 
the  one  upon  whom  her  vengeance  would  fall,  and  it 
would  fall  upon  Numa  also,  if  he  really  loved  her. 
Would  not  any  harm  that  came  to  her  trouble  him  more 
than  any  that  could  possibly  come  to  himself?  And 
would  she  not  also  be  revenged  upon  this  girl  who 
had  stolen  her  lover  away  from  her? 

In  her  excitement  Jeanne  sprang  to  her  feet,  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room  like  a  caged  animal,  and  her  face 
at  this  moment  was  not  pleasant  to  see. 

Suddenly  she  dropped  back  upon  the  bed  again  in 
limp  despair,  for  another  thought  had  come  to  her. 

381 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

How  was  she  to  punish  Aline?  How  could  she  harm 
this  girl,  who,  unknown  to  most  of  the  people  at  Lan- 
dry,  was  almost  unknown  to  her?  This  was  the  ques 
tion  that  she  asked  herself  again  and  again,  as  with 
wrinkled  brows  and  tear-stained  eyes  she  sat  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bed  in  thoughtful  silence. 

"Who  could  help  her  in  this  matter?"  she  asked 
herself,  for  she  knew  that  alone  she  could  do  but  little. 
If  she  could  have  the  assistance  of  some  man  it  would 
help  her  greatly,  but  who  was  there  that  would  give  her 
such  assistance? 

There  were  many  it  was  true  who  would  willingly 
face  Numa  in  an  open  fight,  but  whom  could  she  find  to 
do  this  other  thing?  Who  would  help  her  to  harm  a 
weak,  defenseless  girl  that  had  but  an  old  man  to  pro 
tect  her?  Such  a  man  must  be  mean  and  cowardly,  a 
man  too  craven  to  fight  by  any  fair  means,  too  clever  to 
be  discovered  by  those  he  fought,  and  yet  too  stupid 
to  discover  the  deception  that  she  would  practice  upon 
him  in  her  pretended  love.  Where  could  she  find  such 
a  man? 

And  so  she  sat  and  racked  'her  brain  until  (happening 
to  glance  out  of  the  window)  she  saw  a  figure  that 
caused  her  to  spring  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  and  hurry 
outside. 

Jean  Marie  Lacour  was  returning  from  his  dinner 
to  the  drug  store. 

Jeanne  called  to  him  from  the  doorway.  "  Wait  a 
moment,  Jean  Marie,"  she  cried.  "  I  am  going  to  the 
store  and  I  will  walk  with  you." 

Jean  Marie  stopped  instantly,  and  coming  to  the 

382 


NUMA    SETTLES   AN    OLD    SCORE 

fence  leaned  over  it  with  an  expectant  smile.  He  had 
seen  but  little  of  Jeanne  in  the  past  few  weeks,  and  what 
little  he  had  seen  of  her  had  given  him  but  small  satis 
faction.  He  had  told  himself  that  his  quest  was  hope 
less  and  it  had  hurt  him,  for  he  really  loved  her.  There 
fore  when  she  called  to  him  and  asked  for  his  company 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  it. 

"  Wait  for  me,  I  shall  be  ready  in  a  moment,"  called 
Jeanne,  and  hurrying  into  the  house  she  left  the  aston 
ished  clerk  to  stare  after  her  in  pleased  amazement. 

When  she  reappeared  a  few  moments  later  her  face 
bore  none  of  the  signs  of  her  recent  emotion,  and  she 
smiled  upon  the  amazed  man  so  sweetly  that  he  was 
instantly  transported  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight. 

"  Ah,  Jean  Marie,"  said  she,  "  I  am  indeed  glad 
that  I  caught  sight  of  you.  It  has  been  some  time 
since  I  have  seen  you." 

Jeanne  Marie  assumed  an  air  of  injured  innocence. 
"  Whose  fault  has  it  been?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  must  know  that  I  have  been  very  busy  lately," 
answered  Jeanne,  "  and  it  has  been  some  time  since  I 
have  come  out  to  walk  upon  the  streets." 

Jean  Marie  looked  at  her  curiously  for  a  moment,  as 
though  he  was  not  quite  certain  that  she  was  in  earnest. 
He  wondered  at  her  pleasant  treatment  of  him  and, 
like  the  crafty  creature  that  he  was,  he  determined  to 
take  advantage  of  it.  There  were  several  things  that 
he  wished  to  find  out,  and  he  saw  no  better  time  for 
finding  them  out  than  the  present. 

"  Of  course  you  have  been  busy,"  said  he.  "  Every 
one  in  Landry  knows  that."  He  smiled  meaningly. 

383 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Jeanne  looked  surprised.  "  Of  what  are  you  speak 
ing?  "  she  asked. 

'  Why,   of  your  coming  marriage   to  Numa,"   an 
swered  Jean  Marie  smoothly. 

Jeanne  gave  a  scornful  laugh.  "  You  are  joking, 
surely,"  said  she.  "  I  did  not  expect  the  people  at 
Landry  to  understand  what  I  have  been  doing,  but  you, 
Jean  Marie — you  who  have  been  to  the  city — I  thought 
surely  that  you  would  understand." 

Jean  Marie  assumed  an  air  of  great  wisdom.  "  Of 
course,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  seen  more  than  the  people 
here,  but  I  have  not  exactly  understood  you.  You  have 
been " 

He  paused  and  looked  at  her  vaguely. 

"  I  have  been  playing  with  Numa,"  answered  Jeanne 
slowly.  "  I  have  been  playing  with  him,  as  I  have 
played  with  men  all  my  life.  You  did  not  think  that 
I  loved  him,  did  you?  What  fools  men  are.  They 
think  in  their  own  conceit  that  every  woman  that  smiles 
upon  them  is  in  love  with  them." 

Jean  Marie  nodded  sagely.  He  was  beginning  to 
understand.  "  I  see,"  said  he.  "  You  do  not  love 
Numa.  You  have  been  fooling  him,  just  as  you  have 
fooled  the  rest."  He  paused  and  his  face  was  lit  with  a 
smile  of  great  satisfaction,  for  there  was  in  this  news 
just  a  little  of  the  punishment  that  he  feared  to  inflict 
upon  his  rival. 

"  Of  course  I  have  been  fooling  him,"  continued 
Jeanne  sweetly.  "  You  did  not  think  that  I  would 
throw  myself  away  upon  a  man  like  Numa,  did  you? 
Ah !  No.  I  will  look  a  little  higher,  I  promise  you.  I 

3B4 


NUMA    SETTLES   AN    OLD    SCORE 

will  marry  a  man  who  has  seen  something,  who  knows 
something." 

She  eyed  Jean  Marie  nervously,  for  her  attack  had 
been  very  direct,  and  she  feared  that  he  might  become 
suspicious,  but  one  glance  at  his  face,  radiant  with  his 
own  shallow  egotism,  reassured  her,  and  she  gave  him 
a  look  that  set  his  heart  to  thumping  in  a  terrible 
manner. 

Jean  Marie  swallowed  the  bait  eagerly.  "  What  a 
girl  you  are,  Jeanne,"  sSid  he  with  a  sigh  of  admira 
tion.  "  I  should  have  known  that  you  would  look 
higher." 

"  I  will  look  higher,"  answered  Jeanne  insinuatingly. 

The  clerk  turned  upon  her  a  look  of  bashful  uncer 
tainty  and  she  cast  down  her  eyes  demurely. 

"  As  you  know,  Jeanne,  I  have  been  to  the  city  and 
I  have  seen  many  things,"  said  Jean  Marie  haltingly. 
"  I  offered  you  my  love  before,  and  you  cast  it  away 
as  a  worthless  thing.  What  if  I  were  to  offer  it  to  you 
again?  "  He  looked  at  her  expectantly. 

"  If  you  were  to  offer  it  to  me  again  I  would  accept 
it,"  began  Jeanne  slowly,  and  then  she  paused. 

Jean  Marie  gave  a  glad  cry  and  started  forward. 

u  — Upon  one  condition,"  finished  Jeanne. 

Jean  Marie's  face  fell.  "  And  the  condition?"  he 
asked. 

They  had  now  come  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
drug  store,  where  Jeanne  knew  that  it  would  be  impos 
sible  to  speak  to  the  clerk  as  she  wished,  so  she  laid  her 
hand  lightly  upon  his  arm. 

"  Let  us  walk  past  the  store,"  said  she,  "  for  I  have 

385 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

much  to  tell  you,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  of  what 
I  have  to  say  before  other  people." 

She  turned  as  she  spoke  and  led  the  way  down  a  side 
street  that  opened  out  upon  the  road  to  Mouton,  where 
the  two  walked  along  in  silence  until  the  town  was  left 
behind  them  and  the  houses  had  given  place  to  the 
hedges  that  shut  in  the  road  with  their  high  green 
walls. 

Jean  Marie  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence,  his 
impatience  having  by  now  become  unbearable. 

"  And  the  condition,  Jeanne?"  he  asked  anxiously. 
u  What  is  the  condition?  " 

Jeanne  turned  to  him  with  her  sweetest  smile  and 
spoke  to  him  in  the  most  coaxing  tones  imaginable. 

"  I  have  a  grievance  against  a  certain  person,"  said 
she,  "  and  this  grievance  has  made  me  revengeful.  I 
cannot  hope  to  gain  my  revenge  alone,  Jean  Marie, 
and  I  wish  you  to  help  me.  If  you  do  help  me  I  will 
believe  that  you  really  love  me,  and  then  I  will  love 
you  also.  That  is  the  condition,  and  now  it  is  for  you 
to  say  whether  you  will  help  me  or  not.  There  arc 
many  who  would  jump  at  the  chance." 

Jean  Marie's  face  was  a  study  of  conflicting  emotions, 
and  he  gazed  at  Jeanne  in  silent  appeal.  His  love  for 
the  girl  was  battling  with  his  cowardliness,  and  the 
struggle  was  a  fierce  one. 

When  he  finally  answered  her,  his  voice  trembled  as 
much  with  fear  as  with  disappointment — the  disappoint 
ment  of  one  who,  having  his  most  cherished  ambition 
within  his  grasp,  is  suddenly,  through  his  own  weakness, 
forced  to  relinquish  it. 

386 


NUMA    SETTLES   AN    OLD    SCORE 

"  I  am  sorry,  Jeanne,"  said  he  slowly,  "  but  I  do  not 
think  that  I  can  do  what  you  wish  me  to.  I  am  a  busi 
ness  man  and  I  know  nothing  of  fighting.  I  would 
stand  no  chance  against  this  man  upon  whom  you  wish 
to  be  revenged.  Also,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  man 
that  you  wish  me  to  harm  is  Numa.  I  have  seen  him 
shoot,  and  that  is  enough.  What  good  would  it  do  me 
to  have  you  love  me  after  I  am  dead.  No!  No! 
Jeanne,  I  cannot  do  it." 

Jeanne  turned  away  her  face  for  a  moment  that  he 
might  not  see  the  scorn  that  was  pictured  upon  it. 

"  You  have  not  let  me  tell  you  all,"  said  she.  "  When 
I  said  that  I  had  a  grievance  against  a  person  I  did  not 
say  whether  that  person  was  a  man  or  a  woman." 

Jean  Marie  gave  a  joyful  start.  "  Ah!  If  it  were 
only  a  woman  now — "  he  began. 

"  It  is  a  woman,"  interrupted  Jeanne,  "  and  if  you 
are  careful  no  one  need  know  that  you  have  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  matter.  You  have  heard  of  the 
girl  at  M'sieu  Gordon's  plantation  that  is  called 
Aline?" 

Jeanne  Marie  nodded. 

"  She  is  the  one,"  said  Jeanne  in  a  low  voice. 

"And  why  do  you  wish  to  harm  her?"  began  the 
clerk. 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  interrupted  Jeanne.  "  Will  you 
do  it?" 

Jean  Marie  looked  puzzled.  "  What  is  it  that  I 
must  do  to  harm  her?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  is  for  you  to  decide,"  answered  Jeanne.  "  I 
only  wish  that  I  knew  what  to  do.  She  will  be  a  hard 

387 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

one  to  injure,  Jean  Marie,  and  my  poor  head  is  too 
empty  to  think  of  any  plan,  so  I  have  turned  to  you. 
Surely  a  person  such  as  you  are,  who  has  traveled  and 
seen  the  world,  can  settle  a  little  matter  like  this." 

"  Of  course  you  do  not  wish  me  to  injure  her 
bodily?  "  inquired  the  clerk  anxiously. 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Jeanne.  "  What  I  wish 
you  to  do  is  to  spread  some  report  about  her  that  will 
harm  her.  I  would  do  it  myself  and  gladly,  but  who 
would  believe  me?  They  would  laugh  at  me  and  say 
that  I  was  jealous.  But  they  will  believe  you,  Jean 
Marie,  because  you  are  a  man,  and  you  are  not  sup 
posed  to  be  jealous.  Ah!  Why  will  they  ever  treat  us 
as  though  we  were  children?  If  I  were  but  a  man  for 
a  day,  an  hour,  I  would  show  them  whether  I  am  a 
child  or  not." 

She  clenched  her  hands  and  turned  upon  the  clerk 
with  blazing  eyes. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say?  "  she  cried  fiercely.  "  Will 
you  do  it?  Is  it  yes  or  no?  " 

Jean  Marie,  assuming  a  most  solemn  air,  motioned 
her  to  be  silent.  "  I  am  thinking,"  said  he — and  then 
suddenly  he  gave  a  cry  of  satisfaction  and  turned  to 
her  triumphantly.  "  I  have  it!  I  have  it!  "  cried  he 
excitedly.  "  The  store  is  a  great  place  for  talk,  as  you 
must  know,  and  I  hear  there  many  things  of  many  peo 
ple.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  this  Aline  is  a  great  favor 
ite  of  M'sieu  Gordon's  and  that  he  goes  often  to  her 
cabin  to  see  her.  That  he  has  even  given  her  money — 
gold  money,  Jeanne.  What  if  I  were  to  have  something 
to  say  of  them,  of  those  two,  the  next  time  that  they  are 

^88 


NUMA    SETTLES   AN    OLD    SCORE 

talking  at  the  store?  Do  you  understand?  You  know 
what  I  mean,  eh?  " 

Jeanne  looked  at  the  clerk  admiringly.  "  What  a 
clever  fellow  you  are,  Jean  Marie,"  said  she.  "  I  would 
never  have  thought  of  it  myself." 

She  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  him  that  she 
had  given  him  the  key  to  this  idea  in  what  she  had  said 
to  him,  or  that  she  had  thought  of  this  plan  as  soon 
as  she  had  seen  him. 

Jean  Marie  pulled  out  his  big  silver  watch  and  looked 
at  it  guiltily. 

"  My,"  said  he,  "  I  am  over  half  an  hour  late.  The 
doctor  will  be  very  angry,  and  I  must  think  of  some 
excuse.  I  am  going  to  hurry  back  and  you  must  come 
along  a  little  later,  for  I  do  not  wish  the  doctor  to  see 
us  together.  I  have  my  excuse  to  make,  you  know. 
And  now,  will  you  not  give  me  a  kiss,  Jeanne,  as  a  little 
advance  for  what  I  am  going  to  do  for  you?  " 

The  road  stretched  away  before  them  deserted  and 
the  tall  hedges  shut  them  in  on  either  side  from  the 
sight  of  any  possible  intruder.  Jean  Marie  put  up  his 
lips. 

With  a  sigh  Jeanne  bent  down  and  kissed  him,  barely 
hiding  the  shudder  that  passed  over  her  as  their  lips 
met.  She  had  begun  this  thing  and  she  must  see  it  to 
the  bitter  end. 

She  watched  the  clerk  as  he  hurried  away,  a  look  of 
deepest  contempt  upon  her  face. 

"  Ah,  what  a  miserable  creature  you  are,"  said  she. 
"*  The  hardest  thing  that  I  have  ever  done  is  to  pretend 
to  love  you.  But  you  will  pay  dearly  for  it  all  when 

389 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

your  turn  comes,  and  it  will  come  the  moment  that  I 
am  through  with  you." 

When  Jean  Marie  reached  the  drug  store  he  found 
the  old  doctor  absent  upon  a  sick  call,  and  he  found 
also  a  girl  who  was  waiting  for  a  prescription.  He 
gave  a  guilty  start  when  he  saw  that  it  was  Aline,  and 
hurrying  behind  the  counter  he  handed  her  the  medicine. 

"  Is  that  all,  M'sieu?  "  she  asked  as  she  paid  him. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jean  Marie,  "  that  is  all.  All  for 
the  present  I  mean,"  he  added  under  his  breath  as  she 
turned  to  go. 


390 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

LE  SAUVAGE 

TRUE  to  his  promise,  Carey,  in  the  days  that 
followed  his  interview  with  Numa,  paid  many 
visits  to  the  little  cabin  on  the  edge  of  the 
field.  To  do  all  that  he  had  agreed  to  do  was,  he  told 
himself,  his  solemn  duty,  and  the  defense  that  he  made 
for  Numa  was  both  eloquent  and  hearty  in  the  extreme. 

It  was  no  easy  task  for  him  to  do  this  thing,  for  now 
that  he  had  acknowledged  to  himself  his  love  for  Aline 
every  word  that  he  said  in  favor  of  Numa  was  a  blow 
aimed  against  his  own  happiness.  It  would  have  been 
hard  for  him  indeed  had  it  not  been  for  the  girl  her 
self,  who,  listening  to  his  defense  of  Numa,  always  in 
respectful  silence,  had,  when  he  had  finished  speaking, 
but  one  answer  to  give  him. 

"  What  you  say,  M'sieu,  must  of  course  be  true," 
she  would  always  reply,  "  but  I  cannot  forgive  Numa. 
You  do  not  know  all  and  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  if  you 
only  knew  you  would  not  blame  me." 

One  day  she  asked  a  question  that  he  found  it  hard 
to  answer.  He  had  just  finished  a  long  speech  in 
Numa's  defense  when  the  girl  turned  upon  him  with  a 
curious  look  in  her  eyes. 

;'  Why  is  it  that  you  are  so  anxious  to  have  me  for- 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

give  Numa?"  she  had  asked.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to 
marry  him,  M'sieu?  That  is  the  only  thing  that  I 
would  not  do  for  you." 

Carey  had  not  answered  her  at  first,  but  had  thought 
a  long  time  before  replying.  He  had  felt  that  to  inti 
mate  to  her  in  the  slightest  degree  the  love  that  he 
felt  for  her  would  have  been  a  gross  breach  of  the 
trust  that  Numa  had  reposed  in  him. 

"  I  cannot  answer  your  question,  Aline,"  he  had 
finally  said  to  her,  "  but  one  of  these  days  I  will  explain 
to  you  all  that  I  wish."  And  without  giving  her  a 
chance  to  question  him  further,  he  had  left  the  cabin, 
enraged  at  his  ever-ready  sympathy  that  had  of  late 
caused  him  so  much  trouble. 

And  so  the  days  had  passed  slowly  for  him,  each  one 
endearing  the  girl  more  to  him,  each  one  making  him 
regret  more  keenly  his  agreement  with  Numa.  He  was 
not  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  his  frequent  visits  to 
the  cabin  were  the  cause  of  much  speculation  among  the 
people  at  Belrive,  and  he  had  laid  much  stress  upon 
the  old  man's  sickness,  using  it  as  an  excuse  for  the  many 
hours  spent  in  Aline's  society. 

But  the  old  man  was  now  much  better,  was  up  and 
working  about  a  little  in  his  garden,  and  Carey  saw  that 
this  excuse  would  no  longer  answer  his  purpose.  There 
fore  he  was  greatly  worried  at  the  thought  of  the  possi 
ble  construction  that  people  would  put  upon  his  actions, 
and  these  thoughts,  together  with  certain  rumors  that 
lhad  come  to  him  faintly  from  Landry,  filled  him  with 
a  foreboding  and  a  restlessness  to  tell  of  his  love  that 
was  well-nigh  unbearable. 

392 


LE    SAUVAGE 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  week  would  never  pass, 
and  he  hailed  the  coming  of  each  day  with  delight,  as 
the  time  grew  nearer  when  his  fears  and  worries  would 
be  at  an  end.  He  wished  a  thousand  times  that  he  had 
limited  the  time  of  Numa's  probation  to  a  day,  and  he 
felt  that  the  ending  of  the  week  would  find  him  the 
happiest  man  alive.  What  he  meant  to  do  then  he 
could  not  fully  decide. 

That  the  announcement  of  his  love  for  Aline  would 
cause  an  endless  amount  of  trouble  with  his  family 
he  knew  only  too  well,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  the  pain  that  it  would  give  them.  They  would  think 
him  mad  and  would  send  Aline  away  in  disgrace  to  the 
Grand  Woods,  where  he  could  not  help  but  acknowledge 
she  rightfully  belonged.  How,  he  asked  himself,  could 
they  see  in  her  the  many  perfections  that  to  him  were 
so  apparent?  And  when  they  sent  her  away  what  was 
he  to  do  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  for  them  all  if  Aline 
were  to  forgive  Numa  and  marry  him?  Surely  this 
would  be  the  easiest  solution  of  the  matter.  And  then 
his  love  for  the  girl  would  cry  out  fiercely  against  such 
a  thing,  and  he  would  forget  his  family,  his  troubles 
and  all  in  thoughts  of  Aline. 

Therefore  when  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day 
arrived  he  had  come  to  no  decision. 

As  he  rode  to  the  stables  in  the  gray  dusk  of  the 
November  daybreak  he  told  himself  that  the  time  had 
now  come  when  he  must  act;  the  time  when  he  must 
choose  between  the  duty  that  he  owed  his  family  and 
his  love  for  Aline.  His  visit  to  the  cabin  that  morning 
was  a  short  one,  and  when,  the  day's  work  over,  he 

393 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

came  out  upon  the  plantation  road  and  started  up 
toward  the  big  house  he  had  come  to  his  decision. 

If  Aline,  for  some  untold  reason,  should  change  her 
mind  and  marry  Numa  this  incident  in  his  life  was 
closed,  he  told  himself,  and  closed  in  a  manner  that  was 
best  for  all,  himself  not  included. 

If  on  the  other  hand  Aline  should  refuse  Numa  (as 
he  felt  sure  she  would)  he  decided  to  keep  his  love  for 
her  a  secret,  for  a  time  at  least.  He  would  let  her  finish 
at  the  convent  and  gain  what  education  she  could,  while 
he  would  try  by  degrees  to  break  to  his  family  the  news 
that  he  loved  her. 

He  was  very  well  satisfied  with  this  plan,  especially 
as  it  gave  him  time  in  which  to  perfect  his  affairs  for 
the  future,  and  as  he  rode  slowly  homeward  his  heart 
was  lighter  than  it  had  been  since  the  night  of  his 
meeting  with  Numa. 

He  wondered  what  Numa  would  say  to  Aline  when 
she  had  refused  him  and  where  he  would  go  when  he 
left  her,  for  he  knew  that  such  a  man  as  he  could  not 
stay  near  the  girl  he  loved  and  keep  from  seeing  her. 
In  the  honesty  of  his  own  heart  he  did  not  think  of 
the  possibility  of  Numa's  breaking  his  given  word. 

And  then  he  thought  that  perhaps  Aline,  won  by 
Numa's  pleading  (as  he  had  been)  might  change  her 
determination  to  refuse  him,  and  he  found  himself  by 
this  strange  chain  of  circumstances,  praying  for  the 
failure  of  the  very  thing  that  for  the  past  week  he  had 
striven  with  all  his  power  of  speech  and  influence  to  aid. 

As  he  drew  near  the  big  house  he  saw  a  horse  tied  to 
the  rack  in  front,  and  he  rode  forward  eagerly,  hoping 

394 


LE    SAUVAGE 

that  it  might  be  Tom  Bayne,  whose  cheerfulness  would 
help  him  to  forget  the  many  troubles  that  harassed  him. 
The  visitor,  however,  proved  to  be  Mr.  Parker,  who 
was  just  preparing  to  take  his  leave  after  a  long  and 
glowing  description  of  his  new  girl  to  Aunt  Betty.  This 
girl,  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  sister  of  Monsieur 
Varain's  head  clerk,  had  so  occupied  the  thoughts  of 
Mr.  Parker  that  he  did  not  remember  the  real  object 
of  his  visit  until  Carey's  arrival. 

"  You're  just  in  time,"  cried  he  as  Carey  entered  the 
doorway.  "  I  stopped  by  on  my  way  to  Landry  to  get 
you  to  come  over  to  the  political  meeting.  We've  just 
got  to  re-elect  Paul  Hebert  for  Mr.  Landry's  sake,  if 
for  no  other  reason,  and  old  Varain  is  coming  over  to 
give  us  the  latest  news  from  Mouton.  We'll  have  a  big 
powwow  sure  enough,  and  you've  just  got  to  come." 

Carey  agreed  readily  enough,  any  diversion  being 
welcome  at  this  time,  and  in  a  very  few  moments  he 
was  in  the  saddle  again,  bound  for  Landry  and  the  old 
doctor's  drug  store,  where  the  politicians  were  to  meet. 

They  found  the  old  doctor  waiting  for  them  upon  his 
front  porch,  and  he  hurried  out  into  the  road  with  a 
smile  of  welcome. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  both  came  over,"  said  he,  "  for 
your  standing  with  us  in  this  election  will  help  us  a  great 
deal.  I  have  just  had  a  message  from  Varain  saying 
that  he  will  arrive  a  little  later  than  he  expected,  on 
account  of  some  unforeseen  business,  but  he  assures  me 
that  he  will  be  here  before  dark.  Let  us  sit  upon  the 
porch  and  wait  for  him." 

And  so  they  sat  upon  the  porch  and  talked  of  poli- 

395 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

tics,  while  quite  a  little  crowd  of  idlers  gathered  upon 
the  steps  below  them,  waiting  eagerly  for  the  stories 
and  anecdotes  that  they  knew  would  be  forthcoming. 

For  a  time  the  talk  upon  the  porch  held  straight  to 
the  course  of  the  political  situation,  and  then  suddenly 
it  veered  to  the  merits  of  the  candidate  himself,  Paul 
Hebert. 

'  Well,  if  good,  cool  nerve  and  grit  stand  for  any 
thing,  he  ought  to  win  hands  down,"  declared  Mr. 
Parker  vehemently. 

The  old  doctor  smiled.  "  He  is  a  plucky  man,"  said 
he.  "  Almost  as  plucky  as  his  father." 

"And  was  he  a  deputy  sheriff  also?"  asked  Mr. 
Parker. 

The  old  doctor  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  replied, 
"  he  was  a  sheriff,  and  there  was  only  one  man  in  all 
this  country  as  brave  as  he  was." 

"  And  that  man  was  Le  Sauvage,"  added  Monsieur 
Landry. 

One  of  the  listeners  on  the  steps  gave  a  sudden  start 
and  the  old  doctor,  whose  quick  eyes  took  in  everything, 
called  out  to  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jean?  "  he  asked. 

Le  Bossu  (for  it  was  he)  shrugged  his  twisted  shoul 
ders  and  spread  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  weariness. 

"  It  is  nothing,  M'sieu  le  Doctaire,"  answered  he. 
"  Nothing  but  one  of  the  sudden  pains  that  I  have  so 
often." 

"  And  who  was  this  Le  Sauvage?  "  asked  Mr.  Par 
ker.  "  From  his  name  I  should  judge  that  he  was  a 
pretty  savage  person." 

396 


LE    SAUVAGE 

Doctor  Lemaire  nodded.  "  He  was  savage  to  his 
enemies,"  he  answered.  "  He  was  quite  a  celebrated 
character  in  this  part  of  the  world  some  years  ago,  and 
his  memory  is  still  green  in  the  thoughts  of  the  old 
people  like  myself.  I  suppose  that  I  remember  him 
better  than  most  people,  as  I  happened  to  see  quite  a 
good  deal  of  him  at  one  time." 

The  old  doctor  paused  and  drew  a  cigar  from  his 
pocket.  He  knew  that  he  would  be  called  upon  to  tell 
of  his  experiences  with  Le  Sauvage,  and  he  could  always 
talk  much  better  when  he  was  smoking. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  about  this  savage 
gentleman?"  asked  Mr.  Parker.  "You  have  aroused 
my  curiosity  to  the  highest  pitch  by  what  you  have  said 
already." 

The  old  doctor  lit  his  cigar  and  tucked  it  into  the 
corner  of  his  mouth. 

"  It  is  rather  a  long  story,"  said  he,  "  and  one  that 
most  of  the  people  here  have  heard  many  times,  but 
as  we  have  nothing  to  do  until  Varain  arrives  and  as 
you  have  never  heard  it,  I  will  tell  it  to  you. 

"  I  must  begin  by  telling  you  that  all  of  these  things 
took  place  shortly  after  the  war,  when  this  country  was 
in  a  state  of  lawlessness.  At  that  time  the  courts  at 
Mouton  (which  were  for  the  most  part  filled  with 
Republican  carpet-bagger  officials)  were  so  corrupt  that 
the  conviction  of  a  criminal  was  almost  impossible,  and 
crime  after  crime  was  committed,  the  culprits  receiving 
no  other  punishment  than  a  short  stay  in  the  parish 
prison. 

"  Now  you  must  understand,  my  friend,  that  the 

397 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

reason  for  this  was  very  plain  to  the  better  element  at 
Mouton.  They  knew  that  the  public  officials,  being 
more  or  less  criminals  themselves,  could  not  afford  to 
antagonize  their  friends,  and  in  some  instances  their 
partners — the  apprehended  criminals.  Such  a  state  of 
affairs  as  this  could  not,  as  you  can  understand,  be 
borne  forever  by  the  better  element,  and  so  finally  they 
determined  to  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands. 

"  Accordingly  they  organized  what  was  known  as 
1  Le  Comite  des  Vigilantes,'  and  Hebert,  the  father  of 
our  candidate,  was  one  of  its  leaders.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  I  myself  was  a  member,  as  was  also  your  friend 
here,  Monsieur  Landry. 

"  The  purpose  of  this  organization  was  to  punish 
those  criminals  who  had  escaped  their  just  dues  through 
the  dishonesty  of  the  courts  at  Mouton,  and  so  well  did 
we  perform  our  duty  that  in  a  short  time  we  had  driven 
all  of  these  criminals  from  the  town.  With  them  went 
also  a  great  many  of  the  public  officials,  and  they  took 
refuge  in  a  place  near  here  called  lie  des  Cypres.  Now 
this  He  des  Cypres  was  almost  an  impregnable  place. 
It  was  a  succession  of  small  cypress  islands  lying  far 
out  in  the  open  sea  marsh — a  place  where  one  might 
lie  well  hid  in  the  close  cover  of  the  islands  and 
have  at  his  mercy  the  enemy  on  the  open  marsh 
before  him. 

"  So  here,  for  some  time,  the  outcasts  dwelt  in  safety, 
and  it  is  probable  that  they  would  have  stayed  there 
for  the  rest  of  their  lives  had  they  been  content  to  leave 
well  enough  alone.  But  it  seems  that  when  one  is  once 
dishonest  he  is  dishonest  forever,  and  that  is  the  way 

398 


LE    SAUVAGE 

that  it  was  with  these  people.  No  sooner  were  they 
left  in  peace  on  their  islands  than  they  began  to  start 
their  old  tricks  again.  Coming  out  from  the  marshes 
in  a  great  crowd  they  would  terrorize  the  country 
around  them,  robbing,  burning,  stealing  the  women,  and 
in  some  instances  committing  murder,  and  then  with 
the  Vigilantes  close  upon  their  heels  they  would  retreat 
to  their  stronghold,  there  to  defy  us. 

"  Now  the  leader  of  the  criminals  in  these  raids  was 
a  man  who,  on  account  of  his  fierceness,  the  people  had 
named  Le  Sauvage.  He  was  of  tremendous  height  and 
stature,  as  strong  as  two  ordinary  men  and  possessed  of 
a  courage  and  fearlessness  that  was  the  marvel  of  all 
who  saw  him. 

"  He  was  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  fugitives,  and  we 
felt  that  could  we  capture  him  or  kill  him,  the  taking  of 
the  rest  of  them  would  be  comparatively  a  simple  mat 
ter.  It  is  useless  to  say  that  we  tried  in  every  way 
to  capture  Le  Sauvage,  but  all  our  efforts  failed,  and  the 
fugitives  grew  bolder  every  day,  committing  robberies 
and  stealing  women  almost  under  our  very  noses. 

"  I  had  been  very  anxious  to  see  this  man,  the  stories 
of  whose  bravery  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me,  and 
being  much  younger  than  I  am  now  I  was  foolish 
enough  to  pray  one  night  that  I  might  meet  him.  My 
prayer  was  answered  the  very  next  day. 

"  I  had  been  to  see  a  sick  person  who  lived  far  out  in 
the  country,  near  the  sea  marsh,  and  I  was  returning 
home  in  my  buggy,  tired  out  by  a  very  long  drive.  My 
road  lay  through  a  very  desolate  lane,  bordered  upon 
either  side  by  thick  Cherokee  hedges,  and  I  was  driving 

399 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

along  a  little  before  sunset  when  suddenly  a  loud  voice 
called  to  me  to  halt. 

"  Now,  as  I  have  told  you,  the  times  were  trouble 
some,  and  we  were  all  of  us  prepared  for  danger,  so 
I  pulled  in  my  horse  quickly  and  slipped  down  one  of 
my  hands  to  where  my  pistol  lay  upon  the  seat 
beside  me. 

"  Instantly  the  voice  called  to  me  again.  '  Throw  up 
your  hands,  Doctor,'  it  said,  '  and  do  not  attempt  to 
reach  your  pistol.  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  you,  but  you 
will  force  me  to  in  a  moment.' 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  I  threw  up  my  hands  at  this, 
and  as  I  did  so,  a  man  stepped  out  from  where  he  had 
been  hiding  in  the  hedges  and  came  toward  me. 

"  In  one  hand  he  held  a  pistol  that  was  pointed 
directly  at  my  heart,  and  it  needed  but  a  glance  from  me 
to  tell  that  the  man  who  stood  before  me  was  the  one 
that  I  had  longed  so  to  see — Le  Sauvage.  He  was  a 
large  man,  larger  than  I  ever  expect  to  see  again  in  my 
life,  and  his  face,  although  it  had  about  it  an  almost 
indescribable  look  of  sadness,  was  handsome  in  the 
extreme.  It  was  one  of  those  faces  that  we  seldom  see : 
strong  and  clear-cut,  and  having  about  it  a  certain  win 
ning  air  that  was  almost  irresistible. 

u  He  came  to  the  buggy  and  without  a  word  took  up 
my  pistol  from  the  seat  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 
Having  done  this  he  climbed  into  the  buggy  and,  taking 
the  seat  beside  me,  started  the  horse. 

"  I  must  have  presented  a  strange  picture  of  fright 
and  astonishment  at  this  unexpected  proceeding,  for 
he  turned  upon  me  with  a  laugh. 

400 


LE    SAUVAGE 

"  '  Do  not  be  afraid,  Doctor,'  said  he.  '  If  you  will 
but  do  what  I  ask  you  to,  you  will  come  to  no  harm,  I 
assure  you.' 

"  His  voice  was  strong  and  clear;  the  voice  of  a  born 
leader,  and  yet  it  was  touched  with  the  same  sadness 
that  his  whole  person  suggested. 

"  Being  somewhat  reassured  by  the  tone  of  his  voice 
and  the  friendly  way  in  which  he  looked  at  me,  I 
answered  him  with  as  fair  an  attempt  at  indifference  as 
I  could. 

"  *  And  what  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do?  '  I  asked. 

"  He  pulled  at  his  mustache  for  a  moment  as  though 
he  was  choosing  carefully  the  words  for  his  answer, 
and  then  he  turned  and  met  my  eyes  squarely  with 
his  own. 

"  *  I  have  a  sick  wife,  Doctor,'  said  he  slowly,  '  and 
if  she  does  not  have  medical  attention  soon  she  will 
die.'  He  pointed  an  arm  before  him.  '  She  lies  out 
there  in  the  sea  marsh,  where  none  can  go  to  her  and 
where  none  would  go  to  her,  if  they  could.  Like  myself, 
she  is  an  outcast.  Therefore  as  no  one  will  come  to 
her  I  have  been  forced  to  come  out  from  my  hole  and 
bring  some  one  to  her.  Have  you  a  wife,  Doctor?  ' 

"  I  nodded. 

"  *  And  do  you  love  her? '  asked  he  softly. 

"  Again  I  nodded. 

"  *  Then,'  said  he,  '  you  can  understand  my  position. 
Can  you  truthfully  say  that  you  blame  me  for  stopping 
you  as  I  have  done  ?  ' 

"  I  shook  my  head.  '  No,'  said  I,  '  I  do  not  blame 
you,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  save  your  wife. 

401 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

As  you  must  know,  I  am  one  of  the  Vigilantes,  and  if 
I  meet  you  again  I  assure  you  that  I  will  do  my  best 
to  kill  you.  But  for  the  present  I  am  going  with  you 
as  a  physician,  and  I  would  be  a  sorry  creature  were  I 
to  do  anything  that  is  not  just  and  right.  Had  you 
sent  for  me  I  would  have  gone  to  see  your  wife  just  as 
I  would  have  gone  to  see  any  other  woman.  We  doc 
tors  cannot  choose  our  patients.  And  now,  my  friend, 
until  we  are  back  here  again  in  the  road  and  on  equal 
footing,  I  want  you  to  remember  that  I  am  not  a  Vigi 
lante,  but  a  physician,  and  I  shall  expect  you  to  treat 
me  as  such.' 

"  Le  Sauvage  held  out  his  hand.  *  You  are  a  real 
man,  Doctor,'  said  he,  *  and  to  show  you  that  I  trust 
you,  I  am  going  to  give  you  back  your  pistol.' 

"  He  handed  it  to  me  as  he  spoke,  and  we  drove 
along  in  silence  until  we  came  to  the  thin  strip  of  forest 
that  borders  upon  the  sea  marsh. 

"  Here  Le  Sauvage  got  out  of  the  buggy  and  tied 
the  horse.  '  I  will  have  to  blindfold  you,  Doctor,'  said 
he.  '  The  way  to  my  hiding  place  is  a  secret  one  and  I 
cannot  let  you  see  it.' 

"  'And  how  am  I  to  cross  the  marsh  blindfolded?  ' 
I  asked  him.  '  It  is  difficult  to  make  your  way  when 
you  can  see.' 

"  *  I  will  carry  you,'  was  his  answer,  and  before  I 
could  laugh  at  the  idea,  he  tied  a  cloth  about  my  eyes, 
and  picking  me  up  as  though  I  had  been  a  child,  started 
away  with  me  through  the  woods. 

"  Of  that  journey  through  the  marsh  I  can  tell  you 
but  little.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  say  that  it  was  a  long 

402 


LE    SAUVAGE 

one  and  that  Le  Sauvage  never  faltered.  I  have  never 
heard  of  such  strength  as  his. 

"  When  he  finally  set  me  down  upon  my  feet  and  took 
off  the  bandage  I  found  that  it  had  grown  almost  dark, 
and  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes  was  one  that  I  will 
not  forget  to  my  dying  day.  I  was  upon  a  little  island 
far  out  in  the  sea  marsh — an  island  thickly  grown  with 
shrubs  and  underbrush  and  having  upon  its  eastern  edge 
a  single  huge  live  oak.  The  ground  about  this  oak  had 
been  cleared  away  to  make  room  for  a  rude  hut,  built 
of  cypress  logs  and  roughly  thatched  with  reeds  and 
mud,  and  Le  Sauvage,  pointing  to  this  hut,  bade  me 
enter. 

u  '  You  will  find  her  inside,  Doctor,'  said  he.  *  It 
is  not  much  of  a  home,  and  the  fact  that  my  wife  is 
living  in  it  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  love  that 
she  bears  me.' 

"  Pushing  open  the  shaky  door  of  the  hut  I  entered, 
to  find  myself  in  a  bare,  cheerless  room,  the  floor  of 
which  was  the  hard,  uneven  ground  of  the  island.  A 
wood  fire  burned  in  one  corner,  laid  on  a  shallow  hearth 
of  brick,  and  by  its  feeble  light  I  could  see  the  figure 
of  a  woman — the  patient  that  I  had  come  so  far  to  see. 
She  lay  upon  a  ragged  mattress  that  was  stretched  out 
against  the  wall,  and  when  I  bent  over  her  I  found 
that  she  was  a  young  woman,  scarcely  more  than  a  girl, 
still  beautiful  despite  the  ravages  of  care  and  sickness. 
That  she  was  very  ill  I  saw  at  a  glance,  and  after  hav 
ing  done  what  I  could  for  her  I  went  outside  to  her 
husband. 

"  He  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  oak  tree  talking 

403 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

to  another  man,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  he  dismissed 
him  and  came  forward  to  meet  me.  He  did  not  speak 
to  me,  but  I  could  read  the  unspoken  question  in  his 
eyes  and  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  *  Your  wife  is  very  ill,'  I  told  him.  '  And  if  you 
do  not  get  her  away  from  this  place  she  will  die.' 

"  I  pointed  toward  the  edge  of  the  island,  where 
through  the  openings  in  the  brush  you  could  see  the 
mist  that  lay  above  the  marsh  like  a  great  white  cloud. 

"  *  That  is  what  is  killing  her,'  said  I.  '  She  cannot 
live  here  two  days  longer.' 

"  Le  Sauvage  said  nothing  to  this,  but  turned  his 
face  away.  After  a  moment  he  again  faced  me  with  the 
blindfold  in  his  hand. 

"  '  You  have  done  all  that  you  can  for  her?'  he 
asked. 

"  *  Everything,'  I  answered. 

"  Without  a  word  he  put  the  blindfold  over  my  eyes 
and  picking  me  up  in  his  arms  began  the  journey  across 
the  marsh.  When  we  reached  the  buggy  he  took  off  the 
blindfold  and  untied  the  horse.  He  drove  me  away  in 
silence,  and  it  was  not  until  we  had  arrived  at  the  place 
where  he  had  stopped  me  that  he  uttered  a  sound.  Here 
he  stopped  the  horse  and  turned  to  me  with  a  sad  smile 
upon  his  careworn  face. 

"  '  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  been  poor  company,'  said 
he,  '  but  you  will  have  to  excuse  me.' 

"  He  climbed  slowly  into  the  road  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  '  I  had  intended  offering  you  money  for  your  visit, 
Doctor,'  he  continued,  *  but  from  what  I  have  seen  of 

404 


LE    SAUVAGE 

you  I  do  not  think  that  you  would  take  it,  and  I  know 
that  it  would  hurt  me  now  to  offer  it  to  you.  There 
fore,  I  am  only  going  to  thank  you.  We  may  never 
meet  again,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  to  think  as  kindly 
of  me  as  you  can.  I  will  not  attempt  to  tire  you  with  my 
story,  but  I  will  tell  you  two  things,  which  I  hope  you 
will  not  forget.  I  have  been  a  gentleman,  and  I  have 
also  been  greatly  wronged.  Perhaps  if  you  knew  my 
story  you  would  not  think  as  badly  of  me  as  you  do  now, 
but  no  matter.  Good  night,  Doctor,  and  again,  thank 
you.' 

"'And  your  wife?'  I  asked  him,  'what  are  you 
going  to  do  with  her? ' 

u  *  I  will  move  her  to-morrow,'  answered  he.  *  There 
is  an  old  house  between  here  and  Landry  that  is  empty 
and  I  will  take  her  there.' 

"  Now  when  he  said  this  I  sprang  from  my  seat  with 
surprise,  for  I  knew  the  house  of  which  he  spoke,  and 
I  also  knew  that  hunted  as  he  was  it  would  be  certain 
death  for  him  to  go  to  it.  With  the  whole  country  alive 
with  watchful  Vigilantes  he  would  be  seen  and  cap 
tured  before  he  had  been  in  the  house  a  day. 

"  *  You  must  be  mad,'  I  cried.  '  Do  you  not  know 
that  the  house  is  in  an  open  field  not  three  miles  from 
Landry?  The  Vigilantes  will  be  swarming  about  you 
before  you  have  been  there  an  hour.  Do  you  suppose 
that  it  would  be  possible  for  any  one  to  see  you  and 
mistake  you  for  another  person?  ' 

"  I  was  so  much  in  earnest  that  I  caught  his  arm 
and  fairly  shook  him  in  my  excitement.  He  put  my  arm 
aside  with  a  smile  at  my  vehemence. 

405 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

41  '  I  know  all  that  you  say,  Doctor/  said  he,  '  and  I 
thank  you  for  your  interest,  but  it  is  the  only  thing  that 
I  can  do.  I  knew  that  the  marsh  was  killing  my  wife 
before  you  told  me,  and  I  have  thought  of  this  thing 
for  a  long  time.  There  is  not  a  house  in  all  this  country 
that  would  receive  me.  I  know  that  it  is  a  big  risk,  but 
I  am  going  to  take  the  chance.  I  could  have  my  men 
guard  me,  but  after  all  it  is  none  of  their  affair.  I  stole 
my  wife,  Doctor,  stole  her  from  her  quiet  home  in  the 
prairie,  and  she  loves  me  for  having  done  it.  It  was 
I  who  brought  her  into  the  poison  of  the  marsh,  and 
it  is  only  just  that  I  should  take  her  out  again.' 

"  He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  and  again  I  seized  his 
arm. 

"  '  It  is  certain  death,  my  friend/  I  cried,  *  and  your 
wife  has  but  a  small  chance  of  living  if  you  do  bring 
her  out.' 

"  He  laid  his  hand  for  a  moment  upon  my  shoulder, 
and  the  sadness  in  his  face  was  pitiful  to  see. 

"  '  She  is  my  wife,  Doctor,  and  I  love  her,'  answered 
he.  '  And  besides,  if  it  does  turn  out  wrong,  I  sha'n't 
care  very  much.  I  am  tired,  Doctor,  tired  of  it  all. 
Do  you  not  understand?  Good  night,  and  God  bless 
you.  I  know  that  you  will  not  betray  me,'  and  giving 
my  shoulder  a  little  squeeze  he  plunged  into  the  hedges 
and  left  me. 

"  I  drove  home  that  night  with  my  brain  in  a  whirl, 
amazed  at  finding  that  I,  a  member  of  the  Vigilantes, 
was  in  sympathy  with  the  leader  of  the  fugitives,  a  man 
who  but  a  few  hours  ago  I  would  have  killed  like  a 
dog.  It  was  monstrous,  and  yet,  my  friend,  such  was 

406 


LE    SAUVAGE 

the  power  of  Le  Sauvage  that  I  do  not  think  any  one 
who  knew  him  could  have  kept  from  loving  him." 

The  old  doctor  paused  for  a  moment  to  light  his 
cigar,  which  he  had  let  go  out  long  ago,  and  Mr.  Par 
ker  smote  the  arm  of  his  chair  enthusiastically. 

"  I  don't  blame  you  for  liking  him,"  he  cried.  "  He 
was  what  you  might  call  a  real  man.  And  did  he  bring 
his  wife  to  the  empty  house?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  doctor,  "  he  did.  It  could 
not  have  been  later  than  four  o'clock  the  next  evening 
when  I  heard  a  terrible  knocking  at  my  front  door, 
and  on  opening  it  I  saw  a  large  crowd  of  Vigilantes 
waiting  upon  their  horses  in  the  road  outside.  They 
did  not  need  to  explain  their  mission,  and  when  they 
called  to  me  that  they  had  trapped  Le  Sauvage  I  could 
not  help  but  feel  sad.  It  took  but  a  moment  to  saddle 
my  horse,  seize  my  rifle  and  join  them,  and  as  we  rode 
along  they  told  me  that  which  I  knew  only  too  well 
would  happen. 

"  Le  Sauvage  had  been  seen  to  enter  the  empty  house, 
the  place  was  now  surrounded  to  prevent  his  escape  and 
all  that  remained  was  to  wait  the  arrival  of  re-enforce 
ments  (as  a  guard  against  a  possible  ambush)  to  decide 
whether  they  would  take  him  dead  or  alive. 

"  When  we  reached  the  house  we  found  it  sur 
rounded  by  the  Vigilantes,  who  were  in  command  of 
Hebert,  and  upon  our  arrival  he  gave  the  order  to 
advance  and  secure  our  prisoner. 

"  The  house  stood  in  what  had  once  been  a  cornfield, 
and  taking  advantage  of  the  shelter  that  the  rows 
afforded  us,  we  lay  behind  them  and  crawled  toward  our 

407 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

prey,  Hebert  leading  us.  It  would  have  been  madness 
to  have  tried  to  take  the  house  by  a  rush,  for  Le 
Sauvage  would  have  shot  us  down  like  sheep.  And  so 
we  crawled  along,  each  of  us  expecting  to  receive  a 
bullet,  until  we  were  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
house.  It  was  then  that  Hebert  rose  to  his  feet  and 
called  to  Le  Sauvage  to  surrender. 

'*  'Come  out,  Le  Sauvage,'  he  cried,  '  and  I  promise 
you  that  you  shall  have  a  fair  trial  by  jury.  If  you 
refuse  to  surrender  we  shall  kill  you,  if  it  takes  the  last 
man  of  us  to  do  it.' 

"  As  he  finished  speaking  the  door  of  the  house 
swung  open  and  Le  Sauvage  stepped  out  upon  the  porch. 
I  have  never  in  my  life  seen  a  few  short  hours  make 
such  a  change  in  any  one  as  they  had  in  him. 

"  He  seemed  an  old  man,  and  his  broad  shoulders 
were  bowed  as  with  the  weight  of  many  years.  In  the 
hollow  of  one  arm  he  held  a  tiny,  newborn  infant, 
wrapped  in  an  old  bit  of  blanket,  and  holding  it  up  that 
all  might  see  it,  he  raised  his  haggard  face  to  address  us. 

"  A  dozen  rifles  were  aimed  at  him  as  he  stepped 
out,  but  at  sight  of  the  child  Hebert  ordered  them  to 
be  lowered. 

"  As  he  looked  at  the  armed  men  about  him  the  face 
of  Le  Sauvage  was  lit  with  a  scornful  smile,  and  he 
straightened  himself  for  a  moment  with  his  old  gesture 
of  pride  and  defiance. 

"  *  Your  numbers  compliment  me,  gentlemen,'  said 
he  scornfully.  *  I  see  that  it  has  taken  the  fighting  men 
of  two  cities  to  capture  me.  But  we  will  not  argue 
that.  You  have  come,  however,  gentlemen  of  les  Figi- 

408 


LE    SAUVAGE 

lanles,  at  a  very  inopportune  moment.  I  have  in  a 
few  short  hours  become  two  things — a  father  and  a 
widower.  My  wife  lies  dead  in  the  room  behind  me, 
my  son  I  hold  in  my  arms.  Now  I  do  not  wish  to 
deprive  you  of  the  pleasure  of  killing  me,  neither  do  I 
wish  to  be  taken  alive,  but  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you. 
It  is  a  strange  one,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  grant  it, 
if  only  for  its  strangeness.  Give  me  but  a  few  hours 
in  which  to  bury  my  wife  and  make  provision  for  my 
child,  and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  come  back  to  this 
house  and  fight  it  out  with  you.  My  wife  was  a  good 
woman,  even  as  I  am  a  bad  man,  and  she  deserves  a 
Christian  burial.  My  child  is  but  a  poor,  weak  thing 
and  he  has  never  harmed  you.  Give  me  the  rest  of  this 
day  (it  is  but  a  few  short  hours  at  most)  and  I  promise 
you  that  I  will  meet  you  here  at  sunrise.  There  is  one 
among  you  who  will  answer  for  my  being  here  in  the 
morning,  and  now,  gentlemen  of  les  Vigilantes,  I  throw 
myself  upon  your  mercy  as  a  generous  foe.  I  shall 
await  your  decision  inside/ 

"  He  bowed  as  he  finished  speaking  and  went  into 
the  house  again. 

"  I  knew  that  he  had  meant  me  when  he  had  said 
that  there  was  one  who  would  answer  for  his  return,  and 
rising  to  my  feet  I  made  my  friends  a  little  speech.  I 
told  them  of  what  had  happened  on  the  preceding  day, 
and  then,  fired  by  this  man's  sad  position,  I  made  the 
one  great  speech  of  my  life.  When  I  had  finished 
Hebert  turned  to  the  Vigilantes. 

"  '  All  of  those  who  are  going  back  to  Landry  will 
follow  me,'  said  he. 

409 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  When  I  tell  you  that  I  was  sixth  in  the  line  that 
formed  you  will  understand  how  eagerly  the  men  fol 
lowed  him.  At  the  bend  of  the  road  I  turned  and  for 
the  last  time  saw  Le  Sauvage.  He  was  leading  his 
horse,  upon  which  he  had  placed  the  body  of  his  wife, 
and  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm  he  still  held  the  child." 

The  old  doctor  paused,  pulled  at  his  cold  cigar  and 
threw  it  into  the  road. 

"And  did  Le  Sauvage  turn  up  in  the  morning?  " 
asked  Mr.  Parker  breathlessly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  doctor,  "  he  did,  but  I  did 
not  see  him.  I  asked  Hebert  to  excuse  me,  and  he  did 
so  willingly.  When  the  Vigilantes  arrived  at  the  house 
they  found  Le  Sauvage  waiting  for  them  on  the  porch, 
and  they  say  that  he  looked  like  death. 

"  *  I  have  kept  my  promise,  gentlemen  of  les  Vigi 
lantes?  said  he,  '  and  I  have  much  to  thank  you  for.' 

"  He  started  to  enter  the  house,  but  Hebert  called 
to  him  to  stop. 

"  '  You  are  a  brave  man/  he  cried,  '  and  I  will  not 
see  you  pulled  out  like  a  rat  and  shot  to  death.  If 
you  will  go  inside  the  house  and  promise  me  safe 
entrance  alone  I  myself  will  settle  this  matter  with  you/ 

"  Le  Sauvage,  so  it  is  said,  bowed  at  this. 

"  *  You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart,'  answered  he. 

"  *  I  shall  be  in  in  two  minutes,  and  we  will  begin  to 
shoot  as  soon  as  I  have  closed  the  door,'  said  Hebert  as 
Le  Sauvage  went  inside. 

"  When  the  two  minutes  were  up  Hebert  went  inside 
and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  Those  outside  heard 
a  single  shot  and  then  Hebert  came  out  again. 

410 


LE    SAUVAGE 

"  The  Vigilantes  began  a  great  cheer,  but  Hebert 
stopped  them. 

"  4  There  is  nothing  to  cheer  about,  my  friends,'  said 
he.  *  I  have  killed  an  unarmed  man,  that  is  all,'  and 
when  they  searched  the  body  of  Le  Sauvage  they  found 
that  he  had  spoken  the  truth.  They  found  the  arms 
afterwards  lying  outside  the  window,  where  Le  Sauvage 
had  thrown  them. 

"  And  so  that  is  the  story  of  Le  Sauvage,  and  after 
his  death  the  Vigilantes  had  but  little  trouble  in  driving 
out  the  criminals  from  the  He  des  Cypres.  Hebert  was 
the  first  sheriff  elected  by  the  new  government  at  Mou- 
ton,  and  he  served  his  people  well  until  his  death  some 
years  ago.  And  now,  if  Varain  is  going  to  keep  his 
promise  about  getting  here  before  dark,  he  will  have 
to  hurry." 

The  old  doctor  spoke  truly,  for  the  twilight  was 
thickening  fast  and  the  stars  were  already  beginning  to 
come  out. 

Mr.  Parker  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  stretched  him 
self.  "  He  was  a  brave  man — Le  Sauvage,"  said  he, 
following  the  trend  of  his  thoughts. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  old  doctor,  "  he  was  and " 

But  a  voice  interrupted  him. 

"  He  was  something  else  also,  M'sieu  le  Doctaire," 
said  the  voice. 

The  old  doctor  turned  sharply  about  and  beheld  Le 
Bossu,  who  was  standing  up  on  the  steps  and  eyeing 
him  eagerly. 

"  And  what  else  was  he,  Jean?  "  asked  the  old  doctor 
kindly. 

411 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"He  was  my  father,  M'sieu  le  Doctaire,"  answered 
the  little  man. 

His  words  caused  the  greatest  excitement  among  the 
group  upon  the  porch.  A  dozen  questions  were  asked 
him  in  as  many  seconds,  but  the  little  man  only  shook 
his  head. 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot  tell  you,  and  besides,  Mon 
sieur  Varain  is  coming  up  the  road,"  said  he  as  he 
slipped  away  in  the  gathering  darkness. 


412 


CHAPTER    XXV 

ALINE  GIVES  HER  ANSWER 

IN  the  meantime,  while  the  old  doctor  was  deciding 
the  fate  of  Le  Sauvage,  the  fate  of  another  man 
had  been  decided,  and  in  almost  as  unsatisfactory 
a  manner. 

The  shadows  of  the  evening  had  barely  fallen  upon 
the  vast  wilderness  of  the  cypress  swamp  when  Numa 
saddled  his  pony  and  set  out  from  the  Grand  Woods 
toward  Landry. 

That  his  mission  was  important  one  could  have  told 
by  a  glance  at  his  face,  which  was  now  smiling,  now  sad, 
and  now  black  with  hate,  according  to  the  emotion  that 
for  the  moment  possessed  him. 

The  week  that  he  had  spent  in  the  woods  had  been  a 
sore  trial  to  him,  and  never  did  prisoner  welcome  his 
release  from  confinement  as  did  Numa  the  arrival  of 
the  seventh  day.  If  the  time  had  passed  slowly  for 
Carey  it  had  passed  twice  as  slowly  for  him. 

Alone  in  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  save  for  an  occa 
sional  visit  from  Le  Bossu,  he  had  chafed  fretfully  at 
the  tedious  dragging  of  the  hours,  cursing  himself,  his 
love  and  all  else  in  his  impatience.  It  was  true  that  he 
could  have  gone  to  Landry,  but  he  knew  that  to  do  so 

413 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

would  mean  a  long  period  of  drunkenness,  which,  if 
heard  of  by  Aline,  would  forever  ruin  what  chances  he 
had  of  winning  her,  and  so  he  had  passed  the  time  of 
his  probation  deep  in  the  forest,  hunting  and  fishing, 
thinking  always  of  the  day  for  which  he  was  waiting 
so  eagerly. 

When  it  finally  arrived  it  found  him  in  a  strange 
mood.  He  was  hopeful  one  moment,  despondent  the 
next — one  moment  he  was  cursing  his  love,  the  next 
he  was  blessing  it  as  the  one  bright  spot  in  his  dreary 
life.  Long  before  the  sun  had  pushed  itself  above  the 
dark  line  of  the  trees  he  was  out  in  the  forest  searching 
for  the  late  wild  flowers,  and  when  at  noon  he  returned 
to  his  hut  his  arms  were  laden  with  them.  From  the 
very  heart  of  the  forest  he  had  stolen  these  treasures, 
the  flowers  Aline  loved — great  masses  of  white  and 
pink  and  yellow  blossoms  that  filled  the  air  with  the 
fragrance  of  the  forest  from  which  they  had  come. 

He  held  them  in  his  arms  now  as  he  rode  along,  and, 
shrewd  schemer  that  he  was,  he  knew  that  their  silent 
appeal  would  prove  a  stronger  plea  for  him  than  all  of 
the  eloquence  in  the  world. 

On  his  way  to  Belrive  he  racked  his  brain  for  a 
speech  that  he  could  make  to  Aline,  but  the  words 
would  not  come,  and  he  decided  to  leave  what  he  would 
say  to  the  chance  of  the  moment. 

Aline  opened  the  door  of  the  cabin  for  him,  as  he  was 
about  to  knock  upon  it. 

"  M'sieu  Gordon  told  me  that  you  would  come  this 
evening,  and  I  have  been  expecting  you,"  said  she  as 
she  stood  aside  to  let  him  enter. 

414 


ALINE    GIVES    HER    ANSWER 

When  he  had  come  inside  the  living  room  of  the 
cabin  Aline  closed  the  door  and  faced  him  expectantly. 
Numa  held  out  his  mass  of  flowers. 

"  They  are  from  the  Grand  Woods,  and  are  the  last 
this  year,"  said  he  simply.  "  I  thought  that  you  might 
like  to  have  them." 

With  a  cry  of  joy  the  girl  took  them  and  laid  her 
cheek  lovingly  against  them. 

"  In  all  this  world,  Numa,  there  is  nothing  that  you 
could  have  brought  me  that  would  have  pleased  me 
more,  save  only  my  ring,"  she  cried.  "  I  have  been 
very  angry  with  you,  but  these  flowers  have  brought 
you  your  pardon,  Numa.  You  have  touched  my  heart 
by  this  simple  thing  as  you  have  never  touched  it 
before." 

She  smiled  at  him  and  held  out  her  hand. 

Numa's  face  was  flushed  with  happiness  as  he  took 
the  hand  and  held  it  for  a  moment  in  his  own. 

"  How  kind  and  good  you  are,  Aline,"  said  he. 
"  The  woods  lost  its  fairest  flower  when  you  came  to 
Belrive.  If  I  could  have  found  the  ring  I  would  have 
brought  it  to  you  long  ago,  I  assure  you,  but  as  I  have 
told  you,  it  is  lost  and  I  know  not  where  it  is.  And 
you  say  that  M'sieu  Gordon  told  you  that  I  would  come 
this  evening?  That  is  strange,  for  I  did  not  know  that 
he  ever  gave  me  a  thought.  Who  am  I,  though,  that 
M'sieu  Gordon  should  think  of  me? 

"  It  is  true  that  I  said  I  was  coming  to  see  you,  where 
he  could  hear  me,  but  who  would  have  imagined  that 
he  would  have  spoken  to  you  of  the  matter?  " 

As  he  threw  out  this  feeler  Numa  eyed  the  girl 

415 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

keenly.  He  was  anxious  to  know  of  the  manner  in 
which  Carey  had  kept  his  promise,  and  he  knew  that 
in  her  answer  the  girl  would  tell  him  all  that  he  wished 
to  learn. 

A  puzzled  look  came  over  Aline's  face,  and  she  sat 
for  a  moment  staring  before  her  in  thoughtful  silence. 

"  M'sieu  Gordon  has  taken  a  strange  interest  in  you 
of  late,  Numa,  and  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  she 
slowly.  "  For  the  last  week  he  has  spoken  often  and 
kindly  of  you,  and  he  has  asked  me  many  times  to  for 
give  you.  It  is  all  very  strange,  for,  as  you  well  know, 
he  has  had  trouble  with  you  on  account  of  myself,  and 
at  that  time  he  told  me  to  beware  of  you." 

Numa  rose  and  going  over  to  where  the  girl  sat  by 
the  hearth,  leaned  an  elbow  upon  the  mantle  and  bent 
over  her. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  seen  that  I  really  love  you,  Aline, 
and  he  wishes  to  help  me,"  he  suggested  softly. 

Aline  nodded  her  head.  "  I  have  thought  of  that 
also,  Numa,"  said  she,  "  and  I  spoke  to  him  of  it  one 
day.  I  told  him  that  I  could  never  marry  you, 
and  I  asked  him  if  he  wished  me  to.  He  did  not 


answer." 


Numa's  face  was  ashen  gray  as  she  finished  speak 
ing,  and  the  arm  that  rested  upon  the  mantle  trembled 
painfully. 

"  You  told  him  that  you  would  never  marry  me," 
he  cried.  "  Ah !  Aline,  you  do  not  mean  it.  Tell 
me  that  you  do  not  mean  it." 

He  turned  upon  the  girl  entreatingly,  his  eyes  filled 
with  an  unutterable  longing. 

416 


ALINE    GIVES    HER    ANSWER 

Aline  laid  her  hand  soothingly  upon  his  arm. 

"  Do  not  speak  like  that,  Numa,"  said  she  gently. 
"  You  must  know  that  I  cannot  marry  you,  for  I  have 
told  you  so  often.  Come,  do  not  be  foolish.  I  have 
forgiven  you,  and  let  us  be  friends,  good  friends  like 
Jean  and  me.  Cannot  people  love  one  another  as 
friends,  as  well  as  they  can  as  lovers?  Come,  Numa, 
do  not  let  us  talk  of  love  again." 

She  spoke  to  him  rebukingly,  as  one  would  speak  to  a 
spoiled  child. 

Numa  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and  stood 
before  her. 

"  Listen,  Aline,"  said  he.  "  What  you  ask  is  impos 
sible.  We  cannot  be  friends,  for  I  love  you  too  well, 
and  I  have  come  to-day  for  my  answer — my  final 
answer.  In  all  this  world  you  will  find  no  man  that 
loves  you  as  I  do.  And  now  I  ask  you,  will  you 
marry  me?  " 

He  stood  before  her  a  silent  statue  of  despair,  wait 
ing  for  the  words  that  he  knew  would  come. 

Aline  shook  her  head.  "  I  gave  you  your 
answer  the  first  time  that  you  asked  me,"  she  answered 
slowly. 

With  a  cry  Numa  fell  upon  his  knees  before  her. 

"  You  cannot  refuse  me,"  he  gasped.  "  You  cannot 
do  it.  All  my  life  I  have  loved  you,  even  from  the 
day  when  as  a  little  boy  I  told  you  that  I  would  come 
some  day  and  marry  you.  Many  times  I  have  asked 
you,  and  your  answer  has  always  been  the  same.  Now 
you  must  say  yes,  Aline.  You  must  say  yes.  If  you  do 
not  say  so,  I  am  lost. 

417 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Do  you  know  what  your  refusal  means  to  me?  It 
means  that  I  must  leave  here,  that  I  must  go  away  from 
Landry  an  outcast  and  a  broken  man.  It  means  that  I 
will  lose  all  love  of  life,  all  interest  in  the  few  things 
that  have  made  my  little  world.  It  means  that  I  am 
doomed  to  a  life  of  bitter,  hopeless  despair.  A  life  in 
which  there  will  be  no  gleam  of  hope,  no  care  for  the 
future — only  the  torturing  thoughts  of  the  past  and  of 
what  might  have  been.  Have  pity  on  me,  Aline,  and 
do  not  send  me  away  to  what  I  have  told  you  of.  If 
you  refuse  me  now,  I  am  a  lost  man.  You  are  the  one 
person  in  all  this  world  who  can  save  me,  and  you  will 
not  do  it.  Save  me,  Aline,  save  me,  for  the  love  of 
God." 

He  raised  his  haggard  face  to  hers  and  stretched 
forth  his  arms  imploringly. 

Aline  laid  her  little  hand  upon  his  head  and  stroked 
it  soothingly. 

"  You  must  not  speak  like  that,  Numa,"  said  she. 
"  It  is  wicked.  I  know  that  you  think  that  your  life 
will  be  very  hard,  but  you  are  mistaken  about  what  you 
have  told  me.  You  will  soon  forget  me,  Numa,  and  in 
the  days  to  come,  when  you  have  married  some  good 
woman,  you  will  think  of  this  time  and  wonder  how  you 
could  have  said  such  foolish  things." 

She  laughed  as  she  finished  speaking,  as  though  to 
lend  force  to  her  words;  and  Numa,  whose  temper  lay 
ever  near  the  surface,  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  aflame 
with  anger.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  own  heart  he 
could  not  see  the  tender  sympathy  that  filled  Aline's, 
and  his  anger  flared  hot  within  him,  for  he 

418 


ALINE    GIVES    HER    ANSWER 

thought   that   she   was   mocking   him    in    the    moment 
of  his  misery. 

"  I  see,"  he  cried  furiously,  "  you  would  mock  me, 
would  you?  You  would  drive  me  away  with  a  laugh 
at  my  unhappiness?  You  are  a  hard,  cruel  girl,  Aline, 
•and  God  will  punish  you  for  what  you  have  done  this 
day.  And,  do  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  why  you  have 
refused  me?  It  is  because  you  love  another  man,  and 
that  man  is  M'sieu  Gordon  and  he " 

But  Aline  had  turned  upon  him  with  a  look  in  her 
blue  eyes  that  caused  him  to  halt  and  stammer  in  what 
he  was  saying. 

"  Stop!  "  she  cried.  "  Stop!  I  tell  you,  Numa.  It 
is  you  who  are  hard  and  cruel.  Is  this  the  way  in  which 
you  pay  me  for  having  forgiven  you?  I  strove  to 
soothe  you,  Numa — to  drive  away  the  unhappy 
thoughts  that  filled  your  brain — and  you  in  the  wicked 
ness  of  your  heart  have  not  understood  me.  I  have 
given  you  one  more  chance  for  my  friendship,  and 
again  you  have  proven  unworthy.  Had  you  been  good 
and  kind  and  gentle,  in  the  days  to  come  you  might  have 
gained  that  for  which  you  tried  so  hard.  I  did  not 
know  how  much  you  really  loved  me  until  M'sieu  Gor 
don  spoke  to  me,  and  I  determined  to  give  you  a 
chance.  I  was  trying  you  this  evening,  Numa,  and 
had  you  been  patient  you  might  in  time  have  taught  me 
to  love  you.  But  you  have  had  your  chance,  and 
through  your  own  bad  temper  you  have  thrown  it  away. 
Now  go,  and  I  pray  that  we  may  never  meet  again." 

She  went  over  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  waited 
for  him  to  leave. 

419 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Numa  stood  for  a  moment  in  puzzled  silence,  the 
significance  of  it  all  coming  to  him  slowly.  The  anger 
had  all  left  his  face,  and  his  tall  figure  was  bent  and 
shaken. 

"  Aline,"  he  began,  "  I  did  not  know.  I 
promise " 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

u  It  is  too  late,  Numa,"  answered  she.  "  You  have 
thrown  your  chance  away." 

Again  Numa's  anger  rose,  fierce  and  burning.  Anger 
at  himself  for  his  blindness,  anger  at  Aline  for  the  test 
that  she  had  subjected  him  to,  and  above  all,  anger  at 
the  thought  of  the  chance  that  he  had  lost,  and  of  what 
might  have  been. 

"  So  you  tried  me,  Aline,  did  you?  "  cried  he  fiercely. 
"  You  have  put  me  to  the  test,  and  I  have  failed.  But 
I  would  have  failed  always.  It  would  have  been  the 
same  thing  a  year  from  now,  two  years  from  now. 
You  love  M'sleu  Gordon,  as  I  have  said.  I  know  it, 
and  you  know  it,  and  we  both  have  known  it  for  a 
long  time.  But  you  are  doing  a  mad  thing  in  loving 
him,  Aline.  He  will  not  marry  you  as  I  would.  He 
has  been  kind  to  you  and  has  given  you  many  things, 
things  that  a  poor  man  like  myself  cannot  give  you,  but 
he  does  not  love  you." 

He  paused  for  breath,  and  catching  sight  of  the 
flowers  in  Aline's  arms,  he  tore  them  rudely  from  her. 

"  See,"  he  cried  with  a  bitter  laugh.  u  See  my  poor 
present." 

He  dashed  the  blossoms  to  the  floor  and  set  his  heel 
upon  them. 

420 


ALINE    GIVES    HER    ANSWER 

"  That,"  he  cried,  "  is  what  this  M'sieu  Gordon  will 
do  with  your  love  when  he  is  tired  of  you.  Why,  he 
is  tired  of  it  now,  you  fool.  You  poor,  blind  fool.  Do 
you  not  know  why  he  wishes  you  to  forgive  me?  He 
hoped  that  I  would  marry  you,  that  I  would  free  him 
of  you.  Now  do  you  understand  it  all?  " 

He  towered  over  the  girl  triumphantly,  filled  with  a 
mad  exultation  at  the  pain  that  he  had  caused  her. 

For  a  moment  Aline  gazed  at  him  numbly,  as  though 
his  words  had  stunned  her,  and  then  she  turned  upon 
him  fiercely,  pointing  to  the  open  door. 

"  What  you  have  said  is  a  wicked  falsehood,  Numa," 
said  she  slowly.  "  In  all  this  world  there  is  not  another 
as  wicked  and  as  cruel  as  you  are.  Go,  as  I  have  told 
you  to,  and  pray  to  God  to  forgive  you  for  what  you 
have  done  this  day." 

She  picked  up  the  crushed  flowers  and  gave  them  to 
him. 

"  Take  them  with  you,"  said  she,  "  for  they  are  no 
longer  sweet  since  you  have  touched  them." 

Numa  walked  to  the  open  door  and,  turning,  leaned 
against  the  heavy  oaken  sill.  Raising  the  flowers 
with  a  gesture  of  contempt  he  cast  them  angrily  from 
him. 

"  So  they  are  no  longer  sweet  since  I  have  touched 
them,  are  they?"  he  sneered.  "And  who  are  you  to 
say  such  a  thing?  Who  are  you  to  refuse  the  honest 
love  of  an  honest  man?  It  seems  to  me  that  you  should 
be  proud  to  have  my  offer  of  marriage  after  what  is 
said  of  you  at  Landry,  Aline.  After  what  is  said  there 
of  you  and  M'sieu  Gordon," 

421 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Aline's  face  was  gray  with  dread  as  she  turned  to 
him. 

"  After  what  is  said  of  me  in  Landry,  Numa?  "  she 
faltered.  "  I  know  not  what  you  mean.  It  has  been 
a  long  time  since  I  have  been  to  Landry.  What  do 
they  say  there,  Numa?  " 

She  looked  at  him  anxiously,  the  fear  that  was  at 
her  heart  making  her  voice  sound  hard  and  dull. 

Numa  laughed  harshly. 

"  Yes,  what  do  they  say?  "  he  sneered  again.  "  Can 
you  not  guess,  Aline?  Can  you  not  imagine  what  has 
been  said  of  the  attention  that  M'sieu  Gordon  has 
shown  you?  Do  you  suppose  that  when  a  man  like 
M'sieu  Gordon  is  attentive  to  a  girl  like  yourself  people 
will  think  nothing?  If  you  wish  to  know  what  the 
people  at  Landry  have  to  say  of  you  go  to  them  and 
ask  them.  Then  perhaps  you  will  think  better  of  what 
I  have  said  to  you  to-day.  And  tell  your  uncle  that  in 
the  days  to  come  they  may  have  something  to  say  of 
him  also." 

He  flung  himself  furiously  out  of  the  cabin  as  he 
spoke,  leaving  the  girl  to  stare  after  him  in  silent, 
white-faced  agony. 

When  old  Telesse  returned  from  the  field  at  sunset 
he  found  her  sitting  in  the  open  doorway,  with  set  face 
and  burning  eyes. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  child?"  he  asked  her 
gently,  as  he  took  a  seat  beside  her. 

u  Ah!  Uncle  Telesse,  I  have  waited  for  you  so  long, 
I  have  wished  for  you  so  much,"  she  cried,  and  then 
she  told  him  all.  Told  him  of  what  had  happened  that 

422 


ALINE    GIVES    HER    ANSWER 

day  and  of  what  Numa  had  said  to  her,  her  voice  break 
ing  pitifully  as  she  went  along. 

When  she  had  finished  the  old  man  bowed  his  trou 
bled  face  upon  his  trembling  hands,  for  the  blow  was 
a  hard  one. 

"  This  is  a  bad  affair,  my  child,"  said  he  sadly,  "  and 
there  is  still  more  trouble  to  come  for  me.  I  do  not 
know  what  we  are  to  do." 

He  stared  out  across  the  fields  in  pathetic  silence, 
the  picture  of  despair. 

The  girl  rose  to  her  feet,  and  standing  before  him 
raised  her  head  proudly. 

"  I  know  what  we  will  do,  Uncle  Telesse,"  said  she 
steadily.  "  To-morrow  at  daybreak  we  will  go  to  Lan- 
dry  and  hear  what  they  have  to  say  of  us.  Numa  was 
right  when  he  told  me  that  I  should  go.  We  will  show 
them  that  we  are  not  afraid  to  face  them,  like  the 
honest  people  that  we  are.  And  then  we  will  come 
back  and " 

Her  voice  broke  and  she  turned  away  with  a  sob. 

"  We  will  come  back,  and  what?  "  asked  the  old  man, 
looking  at  her  hopefully. 

"  And  go  away,"  answered  Aline  in  a  quiet  voice. 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  curious  look  out  of  his  gray 
eyes. 

"  And  where  will  we  go,  my  child?  "  asked  he. 

Aline  came  over  to  him,  and  putting  her  arms 
about  him  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder  like  a  tired 
child. 

"  We  will  go  back  to  where  we  belong,"  said  she 
softly.  "  We  have  come  out  into  the  world,  and  it  has 

423 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

not  understood  us.  We  are  forest  folk,  Uncle  Telesse, 
and  in  the  forest  we  belong.  Let  us  go  back  to  the 
place  where  we  are  understood,  the  place  that  we 
love — to  the  birds  and  the  trees  and  the  sweet,  blue 
sky — to  our  home  in  the  woods." 


424 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

MONSIEUR  VARAIN  PICKS   UP   HIS  DUCK  AT  LAST 

THAT  the  political  meeting  at  Landry  was  a 
complete  success  was  a  fact  agreed  upon  by 
all    that   took   part    in   it,    and    to    Monsieur 
Varain  in  particular  it  was  so  eminently  successful  that 
he  never  forgot  it  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

Being  detained  by  unexpected  business  he  did  not 
reach  the  drug  store  until  it  was  quite  dark,  and  imme 
diately  upon  his  arrival  with  the  faithful  Felix  the  little 
party  went  for  their  discussion  to  the  store  of  Monsieur 
Landry,  which  had  been  brilliantly  lighted  for  the 
occasion. 

Here,  in  the  ghostly  silence  of  the  great  building, 
amid  the  fragrant  odors  of  the  groceries,  with  which 
the  air  was  laden,  the  politicians  sat  and  laid  their 
plans  for  the  coming  election. 

It  was  late  when  they  finally  adjourned,  and  Mon 
sieur  Varain,  who  had  presided  as  chairman,  was  glad 
to  dismiss  the  meeting,  for  he  had  had  a  long  day  and 
he  was  tired. 

Monsieur  Landry,  who  was  the  soul  of  hospitality, 
insisted  that  the  whole  party  should  follow  the  example 
of  Monsieur  Varain  and  his  clerk  by  spending  the  night 
with  him. 

425 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

But  his  guests  insisted  that  they  must  leave.  Carey 
had  to  be  in  the  field  at  daybreak,  Mr.  Parker  was 
obliged  to  go  to  Mouton  early  in  the  morning,  and  the 
old  doctor,  who  lived  just  across  the  street,  assured  him 
that  he  felt  equal  to  the  journey. 

So  Monsieur  Landry  saw  them  off,  with  many  expres 
sions  of  regret,  and  closing  the  store  went  with  his  two 
remaining  guests  to  his  house. 

*  You  are  tired,  Varain,"  said  he  as  they  stopped 
for  a  moment  in  his  comfortable  dining  room. 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  he  replied.  u  I  have  had  a  long  day 
of  it.  But  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  I  am  going 
to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  I  am  accustomed  to  drinking  a 
cup  of  coffee  before  I  go  to  bed,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
I  could  sleep  without  it." 

Monsieur  Landry  assured  him  that  it  would  not 
trouble  him  in  the  least. 

"  I  drink  a  cup  myself  sometimes,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
have  an  oil  stove  in  the  store  that  I  warm  it  on.  If 
you  will  wait  a  moment  I  will  fetch  it  so  that  we  can 
make  our  coffee  here,"  and  waiving  aside  Monsieur 
Varain's  protestations  that  it  was  too  much  trouble  he 
hurried  out  to  the  store. 

As  he  was  hunting  for  the  stove  he  discovered  the 
old  doctor's  glasses  lying  where  he  had  left  them 
upon  his  chair,  and  he  locked  them  in  his  desk  with  a 
smile. 

"  Lemaire  is  getting  absent-minded,"  said  he  to  him 
self  as  he  turned  away  to  look  for  the  stove  again. 

When  he  finally  unearthed  it  and  returned  to  the 

426 


MONSIEUR  VARAIN   PICKS  UP  HIS   DUCK 

dining  room  again  he  found  Monsieur  Varain  waiting 
there  for  him  alone. 

"  Felix  was  tired  and  so  I  sent  him  to  bed/'  explained 
Monsieur  Varain  in  answer  to  the  query  of  his  host. 

Monsieur  Landry  lit  the  stove  and  put  the  coffeepot 
upon  it. 

"  I  shall  have  your  coffee  in  a  moment — "  he  began, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  upon  his  front 
door. 

"  Now  I  wonder  who  that  can  be,  knocking  at  this 
time  of  night?  "  muttered  he  as  he  left  the  room. 

In  a  moment  he  returned  with  the  old  doctor. 

Monsieur  Varain  looked  surprised.  "  Have  you 
reconsidered  your  refusal  to  spend  the  night  with  us, 
or  has  your  housekeeper  refused  to  let  you  in  at  this 
late  hour?  "  he  asked. 

Dr.  Lemaire  shook  his  head.  "  Neither,"  answered 
he.  "  I  am  paying  the  penalty  of  old  age  by  becoming 
absent-minded,  that  is  all.  I  have  left  my  glasses  here, 
and  without  them  I  can  see  nothing." 

"  If  you  will  come  with  me  I  will  get  them  for  you," 
said  Monsieur  Landry.  "  I  saw  them  when  I  went  into 
the  store  just  now,  and  I  put  them  in  my  desk  for  safe 
keeping.  Then  you  must  help  us  drink  our  coffee  before 
you  return  home,  Lemaire." 

The  old  doctor  agreed  to  this,  and  as  he  went  out 
with  Monsieur  Landry,  Monsieur  Varain  followed  be 
hind  him. 

"  I  will  keep  you  company,"  said  he,  "  and  inci 
dentally  rob  Landry  of  one  of  his  cigars." 

When  they  entered  the  store,  Monsieur  Landry  led 

427 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

them  to  his  little  office  and  set  the  lamp  that  he  carried 
upon  the  desk.  Unlocking  his  private  drawer  he 
reached  inside  for  the  glasses  and  handed  them  to  the 
old  doctor  with  a  laugh. 

"  There,"  said  he.  "  You  should  thank  heaven  that 
they  fell  into  honest  hands." 

Monsieur  Varain,  who  stood  behind  him,  leaned  for 
ward  curiously. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  ring,  Landry?  "  he  asked. 
"  There  seems  to  be  something  about  it  that  is  familiar 
to  me." 

Monsieur  Landry  took  the  ring  out  of  the  drawer 
and  held  it  up  in  the  lamplight  that  his  friend  might 
see  it. 

"  That  ring  has  puzzled  me  greatly,"  answered  he, 
u  and  I  should  like  to  get  your  opinion  concerning  it. 
Suppose  we  take  it  back  to  the  house  with  us  and  look 
at  it  while  we  are  drinking  our  coffee." 

"  A  capital  idea,"  agreed  Monsieur  Varain.  And 
so  they  took  the  ring  back  to  the  dining  room  with 
them,  and  putting  it  on  the  table  in  the  glow  of  the 
lamp  drew  their  chairs  about  it,  waiting  for  the  coffee 
to  boil. 

After  he  had  examined  the  ring  closely,  Monsieur 
Varain  turned  to  his  host. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  I  found  it,"  answered  Monsieur  Landry,  "  and  in 
a  most  peculiar  place.  I  picked  it  up  from  the  floor 
of  the  coffee  house  here.  It  was  upon  the  day  of  the 
first  communion  at  Pere  Bertrand's  church,  when  Numa 
acted  so  badly."  And  then  he  told  Monsieur  Varain 

428 


MONSIEUR   VARAIN   PICKS   UP   HIS   DUCK 

of  the  fight  that  old  Telesse  had  had  with  Numa  and 
of  his  strange  actions  afterwards. 

Monsieur  Varain  listened  to  him  with  the  greatest 
interest,  and  when  his  host  had  finished  he  again  picked 
up  the  ring  and  examined  it  for  a  long  time  in  thought 
ful  silence. 

"  I  have  seen  this  ring  before,"  said  he.  "  Of  that 
I  am  certain.  But  where  I  saw  it  I  cannot  now  remem 
ber.  Do  you  know  anything  more  concerning  it, 
Landry?" 

Monsieur  Landry,  who  had  been  waiting  for  this 
question,  smiled  mysteriously. 

"  I  do,"  answered  he.  "  What  I  am  now  going  to 
tell  you  is,  to  me,  the  strangest  part  of  it  all.  But  a 
few  days  after  I  found  this  ring  I  saw  upon  the  finger 
of  a  young  lady,  here  in  my  store  at  Landry,  another 
so  exactly  like  it  in  every  particular  that  you  could  not 
have  told  the  two  apart." 

He  paused  impressively,  to  give  effect  to  what  he 
had  said. 

"And  the  young  lady?"  cried  Monsieur  Varain 
impatiently.  "  What  was  her  name?  " 

Monsieur  Landry  raised  a  fat  forefinger  to  empha 
size  his  words,  and  leaning  across  the  table  spoke  very 
slowly : 

"  The  young  lady  was  a  visitor  at  Belrive,"  said  he, 
"  and  her  name  was  Lawrence — Miss  Julia  Lawrence, 
of  Lawrence  Hall  plantation.  I  have  heard  of  the 
name  and  place  before,  but  I  cannot  remember  when  or 
where  I  heard  it.  Ever  since  the  fever,  as  you  know, 

I  have " 

429 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

He  broke  off  speaking,  suddenly,  to  stare  in  astonish 
ment  across  the  table. 

Monsieur  Varain  had  risen  to  his  feet  with  a  cry 
and  now  stood  before  him  white  and  trembling,  trying 
vainly  to  say  the  words  that  his  quivering  lips  refused 
to  speak. 

The  old  doctor  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment,  support 
ing  him,  while  Monsieur  Landry  hurried  to  the  side 
board  for  some  brandy. 

But  Monsieur  Varain  waved  his  friends  aside  impa 
tiently  and  resumed  his  chair. 

"  It  is  nothing,  nothing,  I  assure  you,"  said  he.  "  I 
am  growing  old,  and  it  unnerved  me  a  little  to  hear 
unexpected  news.  And  such  news  as  I  have  just  heard. 
Do  you  know,  my  friends,  to  whom  this  ring  belongs? 
It  belongs  to  the  girl  at  Belrive  that  is  called  Aline, 
and  that  girl  is  my  granddaughter." 

In  his  astonishment  Monsieur  Landry  dropped  the 
brandy  bottle. 

"  Impossible !  "  he  cried  excitedly. 

Monsieur  Varain  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  only  too  true,  I  am  happy  to  say,"  replied  he. 
"  I  have  searched  long  for  my  grandchild,  and  I  am 
sure  that  I  have  found  her  at  last.  I  must  indeed  have 
been  blind  not  to  have  understood  this  thing  at  once, 
but  what  you  have  just  said  convinces  me.  I  have 
thought  all  along  that  this  girl  Aline  was  the  one  I  was 
seeking,  but  I  have  so  far  been  unable  to  find  any  proofs 
of  her  identity.  I  know  that  it  is  very  late,  but 
I  am  sure  that  you  must  be  curious  to  understand  this 
matter,  and  as  I  am  too  excited  to  even  think  of 

430 


MONSIEUR  VARAIN   PICKS  UP  HIS   DUCK 

sleeping  I  will  explain  it  to  you,  if  you  care  to 
listen  to  me." 

Monsieur  Landry  was  in  his  seat  in  a  moment. 

"  And  I  assure  you,  my  friend,  that  I  have  no  inten 
tion  of  going  to  bed  until  you  explain  this  matter  to 
me,"  he  cried. 

"  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I  am  equally  inter 
ested,"  added  the  old  doctor  from  his  seat  at  the  head 
of  the  table. 

Monsieur  Varain  slipped  the  ring  upon  his  finger 
and  gazed  at  it  sadly  for  a  moment. 

"  I  will  begin  by  telling  you  where  I  saw  this  ring 
before,"  said  he.  "  It  was  upon  the  finger  of  Monsieur 
William  Lawrence,  of  Lawrence  Hall  plantation,  and 
this  same  Monsieur  Lawrence  afterwards  married  my 
only  child.  At  the  time  that  I  saw  the  ring  I  was 
overseer  of  his  father's  plantation,  but  at  the  time  he 
married  my  daughter  I  was  his  father's  enemy.  We 
had  a  quarrel,  the  details  of  which  I  will  not  go  into 
now,  and  I  left  Lawrence  Hall,  vowing  vengeance  upon 
the  whole  Lawrence  family. 

"  Therefore,  when  this  young  William  Lawrence  met 
my  daughter  secretly,  taught  her  to  love  him,  and  finally 
married  her,  while  she  was  on  a  visit  to  a  friend,  you 
can  imagine  my  rage  and  mortification.  I  cast  my 
daughter  from  me,  and  she  went  to  New  Orleans  to 
live  with  her  husband.  His  father,  furious  like  myself, 
had  disinherited  him,  and  he  was  in  the  direst  poverty. 

"  My  wife  died  in  less  than  a  year  after  my  daugh 
ter's  marriage,  and  I  was  left  alone  in  the  world.  It 
was  then  that  I  began  to  relent  toward  my  daughter, 

431 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

but  my  foolish  pride  would  not  let  me  forgive  her,  and 
she  died  without  my  ever  having  seen  her  or  having 
written  a  line  to  her.  I  was  a  hard-hearted  man  in 
those  days,  my  friends,  and  I  have  paid  dearly  for  my 
cruelty. 

"  How  I  made  my  money  and  built  my  store  at 
Mouton  you  well  know,  and  in  the  days  of  my  pros 
perity  I  sought  to  make  some  restitution  to  my  dead 
daughter.  I  knew  that  she  had  left  a  child,  and  I 
determined  that  if  I  could  find  this  child  I  would  do  all 
for  it  that  I  would  have  done  for  its  mother.  I  am  sure 
now,  my  friends,  that  I  have  found  her,  and  you  must 
know  what  a  pleasure  and  a  happiness  it  is  to  me  to 
have  done  so.  I  have  been  a  lonely  man,  with  all  of  my 
wealth  and  position,  and  the  thought  that  I  will  have 
my  grandchild  to  make  happy  my  declining  years  seems 
almost  too  good  to  be  true." 

He  turned  upon  his  friends  with  a  beaming  face,  and 
fairly  hugged  them  in  his  delight. 

Monsieur  Landry,  who  was  almost  as  excited  as 
Monsieur  Varain,  turned  to  that  gentleman  with  a 
sudden  intelligence  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  strangely  you  acted  at 
the  picnic,  when  you  first  met  the  girl?  "  he  asked. 
"  Did  you  suspect  then  that  she  was  your  grand 
child?  Was  that  the  reason  that  you  sent  her  to 
the  convent?  " 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded  a  smiling  assent  to  these 
questions. 

"  Yes/'  answered  he.  "  I  was  suspicious  then.  She 
was  the  image  of  my  dead  daughter."  And  then  he 

432 


MONSIEUR  VARAIN   PICKS  UP  HIS   DUCK 

told  of  his  hopes,  his  fears,  and  his  failure  to  learn  any 
thing  of  the  girl's  parentage,  while  his  two  friends 
listened  to  him  in  rapt  attention. 

When  he  had  finished  the  old  doctor  turned  to  him 
with  a  curious  smile. 

"  You  have  told  us  everything  but  the  fate  of  the 
father,"  said  he.  "  What  became  of  him?  " 

"  He  is  dead,  the  girl  told  me  herself  that  he  was," 
answered  Monsieur  Varain.  "  He  left  New  Orleans 
just  before  my  daughter's  death,  and  settled  somewhere 
in  the  country,  I  know  not  where.  My  daughter  died 
as  she  was  going  to  the  place,  and  I  was  told  of  her 
death  by  friends,  who  did  not  know  of  the  husband's 
whereabouts." 

The  old  doctor  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  lit  a 
cigar. 

"  I  will  supply  the  information,"  said  he.  "  The 
father  died  within  a  short  distance  of  Landry,  at  Mr. 
Parker's  place,  in  fact,  and  I  was  his  physician." 

Monsieur  Varain  gazed  at  him  in  utter  astonish 
ment. 

"  You  cannot  mean  what  you  are  saying,"  cried  he. 

The  old  doctor  smiled  grimly.  "  I  assure  you  that  I 
do,"  he  replied,  and  then  he  told  him  of  the  fever  epi 
demic  and  of  the  man  that  had  died  in  the  long  white 
house,  while  Monsieur  Landry  listened  to  him  in  eager 
silence,  shaking  his  head  from  time  to  time,  as  the 
memories  of  the  past  came  back  to  him. 

When  the  old  doctor  had  finished,  Monsieur  Landry 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  the  wildest  excitement. 

"  It  has  all  come  back,"  he  cried.     "  My  memory 

433 


ALINE  OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

has  returned.  Ah!  Why  did  I  not  think  of  this 
before.  Did  you  not  know  who  this  girl  was,  Lemaire, 
you  who  remembered  all?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  answered  the  old  doctor.  "  Did 
she  not  live  with  Telesse,  who  was  this  man  Lawrence's 
overseer?  " 

"Why,  then,  did  you  not  tell  me  who  she  was?" 
cried  Monsieur  Landry. 

The  old  doctor  looked  at  him  curiously.  "  Was  she 
a  person  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  my  speak 
ing  to  you  of  her?  "  he  asked. 

Monsieur  Landry  nodded  thoughtfully.  "  Yes,  you 
are  right,"  said  he.  "  Who  would  have  thought  that  she 
was  a  relation  of  the  rich  Miss  Lawrence  at  Belrive? 
And  the  two  rings  must  have  been  cut  with  the  Law 
rence  crest.  The  one  here  must  have  been  given  to  this 
Aline  by  her  father." 

"  It  was,"  answered  Monsieur  Varain,  "  and  it  was 
taken  from  her  by  a  man  named  Numa.  It  was  he  who 
dropped  it  in  the  coffee  house  and  lost  it.  And  now, 
my  friends,  I  must  hurry  to  my  granddaughter,  for  I 
have  been  separated  from  her  too  long  already." 

"  But  think  of  the  time  of  night,"  remonstrated  Mon 
sieur  Landry.  "  You  must  wait  until  the  morning,  my 
friend." 

Monsieur  Varain  laughed.  "  How  foolish  I  am," 
said  he.  "  I  have  forgotten  everything  in  my  excite 
ment.  But  I  will  go  to  Belrive  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  and  you,  Landry,  must  go  with  me  to  help 
explain,  and  to  tell  the  story  of  the  father." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  do  all  that  I  can,"  answered 

434 


MONSIEUR  VARAIN   PICKS  UP  HIS   DUCK 

Monsieur  Landry.  "  And  now  let  us  go  to  bed,  or  we 
will  get  no  sleep  this  night." 

They  saw  the  old  doctor  to  the  door,  and  then  Mon 
sieur  Landry  led  the  way  to  the  spare  room  where  his 
guests  were  to  spend  the  night,  for  Monsieur  Varain 
had  insisted  that  his  host  should  not  go  to  the  trouble 
of  preparing  two  rooms. 

Monsieur  Varain  entered,  and  lighting  the  lamp  went 
over  to  where  Felix  lay  upon  the  cot  that  had  been 
prepared  so  as  to  leave  the  big,  double  bed  for  his 
exclusive  use. 

For  a  moment  he  bent  over  the  sleeping  clerk,  and 
then,  the  impulse  to  tell  of  his  discovery  becoming 
irresistible,  Monsieur  Varain  gave  the  cot  a  little  shake. 

Felix  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes  in  sleepy  bewilder 
ment. 

"Whaz  dhe  matter? "  he  asked  excitedly.  "  Iz 
dhoze  house  h'on  fire?  " 

Monsieur  Varain  hastened  to  reassure  him. 

"  No,  no,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  good  news  to  tell 
you.  I  have  picked  up  my  duck  at  last,  Felix." 

For  a  moment  Felix  gazed  at  him  in  puzzled  silence, 
and  then,  the  memory  of  their  drive  coming  back  to 
him,  he  sank  back  upon  his  pillow  with  a  sigh. 

"  Daz  fine,"  said  he,  "  but  for  me  she  h'iz  h'alwayz 
dhe  same  h'alwayz  dhoze  poule  d'eau." 


435 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

OLD  TELESSE  SEEKS  A  RECKONING 

THE  bleak  November  day  had  scarce  begun  to 
break  when  Carey  arose  upon  the  morning 
after  the  meeting  at  Landry. 

The  impatience  with  which  he  dressed  himself  sorely 
puzzled  the  slow-witted  boy  who  brought  him  his  coffee, 
for  his  master  had  been  almost  apathetic  of  late,  and 
when  Carey  finally  hurried  out  to  his  horse  the  little 
negro  gazed  after  him  curiously. 

"  I  'clare  toe  goodness  ef  I  don'  b'leeve  Misto' 
Carey's  done  bin  tuck  queer  in  de  haid,"  said  he  to 
himself.  "  All  dis  week  he  bin  cussin'  me  fo'  wakin' 
he  up  soon  in  de  mawnin',  en  now  he  done  wake  up 
'fore  I  calls  him." 

But  had  he  known  the  reason  of  his  master's  impa 
tience  he  might  have  changed  his  opinion  as  to  the 
cause  of  it,  for  the  eighth  day  had  at  last  arrived  and 
Carey  was  hastening  to  learn  what  Numa's  fate  had 
been. 

His  visit  to  the  stable  was  a  short  one  that  morning, 
and,  giving  Wilson  a  few  hurried  orders,  he  galloped 
away  toward  the  fields  as  fast  as  his  horse  could  carry 
him. 

436 


OLD    TELESSE    SEEKS    A    RECKONING 

The  morning  was  cold,  for  the  wind  had  blown  from 
the  north  all  night  and  had  died  away  at  daybreak, 
leaving  the  air  raw  and  chill.  But  the  clearness  of  the 
sky  gave  promise  of  a  strong,  warm  sunlight  to  come, 
and  as  Carey  rode  along  his  spirits  rose  with  the  fresh, 
keen  air  and  the  glory  of  the  morning. 

The  fields  were  bare  and  drear,  scarred  with  the 
furrows  of  the  fall  plowing,  showing  no  life  save  for 
a  few  ragged  crows  and  blackbirds  that  stalked  about 
in  moody  silence.  On  every  side  the  levees  and  canals 
cut  the  barren  stretch  in  long  black  lines,  all  streaked 
and  dirty  with  the  sodden  ashes  of  the  fall  burning. 

It  was  a  dreary  scene,  and  as  Carey  looked  about 
him  he  was  for  a  moment  touched  by  the  loneliness  of 
it  all,  but  the  sight  of  the  little  cabin — now  glowing 
softly  in  the  rosy  flush  of  the  sunrise — revived  his 
drooping  spirits,  and  he  rode  on  toward  it  with  smiling 
face  and  eager  eyes. 

Arriving  at  the  cabin  he  tied  his  horse  to  the  picket 
fence  and  knocked  impatiently  at  the  door.  There  was 
no  answer. 

Again  he  knocked  and  again  there  was  no  answer. 

Being  now  curious  as  well  as  a  little  worried,  Carey 
pushed  open  the  door  and  went  inside.  The  square 
living  room  was  neat  and  clean,  as  Aline  always  kept 
it,  and  a  wood  fire  burned  brightly  upon  the  open 
hearth,  but  save  for  the  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the 
ticking  of  the  clock  upon  the  mantel,  the  place  was 
silent. 

Going  over  to  the  window  Carey  looked  out  at  the 
little  stable,  and  finding  it  empty,  with  wide-opened 

437 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

doors,  he  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire  and  sat  down  to  wait 
for  the  absent  Aline. 

"  They  have  gone  to  Landry,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"  but  what  took  them  there  at  this  hour  of  the  morning 
I  cannot  imagine." 

How  long  he  waited  he  did  not  know.  The  sun  rose 
in  a  burst  of  golden  glory,  and  the  teams  trooped  into 
the  field  in  a  long,  straggling  line,  while  Carey  sat  in 
the  little  cabin  and  counted  the  minutes  that  dragged 
like  years. 

And  as  he  waited  his  face  grew  grave  at  the  thoughts 
that  came  to  him.  u  Was  it  not  possible,"  he  asked  him 
self,  "  that  Aline  had  accepted  Numa,  and  had  gone 
to  Landry  at  this  early  hour  to  marry  him  before  her 
resolution  became  shaken?  Was  it  not  probable  that, 
won  as  he  had  been  by  the  pleading  of  her  wicked  lover, 
she  had  at  last  consented  and  had  gone  at  once  to  carry 
out  her  determination?  " 

Thus  he  argued  to  himself  until  he  came  finally  to 
believe  that  this  could  be  the  only  explanation  of  the 
girl's  absence  at  such  an  early  hour. 

Rising  from  his  seat  he  turned  toward  the  door,  when 
there  came  a  sound  of  a  step  upon  the  little  front  porch. 
In  an  instant  he  was  back  in  his  seat  again,  his  head  bent 
toward  the  fire  as  though  he  had  not  heard  a  sound. 

The  door  swung  slowly  open  and  he  turned  quickly 
as  though  startled  by  this  unexpected  entrance. 

In  the  doorway  stood  Aline,  and  as  Carey  looked  at 
her  he  sprang  to  his  feet  in  sudden  alarm,  the  cold 
dread  coming  over  him  that  his  fears  had  been  realized. 

The  girl's  face  was  white  and  drawn  as  though  from 

433 


OLD    TELESSE    SEEKS   A    RECKONING 

much  suffering,  and  the  pain  in  her  eyes  was  pitiful  to 
see.  With  one  hand  she  steadied  herself  in  the  door 
way,  her  slight  figure  shaking  with  sobs  that  told  of 
unspeakable  grief  and  misery. 

In  an  instant  Carey  was  at  her  side,  his  eyes  searching 
hers  appealingly. 

"  Aline,  Aline!"  he  cried,  "you  have  not  married 
Numa,  have  you?  Tell  me  that  you  have  not.  It  is 
what  I  have  feared  ever  since  I  came  and  found  you 
gone." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  curiously  through  her  tears, 
and  shook  her  head. 

"  Why  should  you  think  that,  M'sieu?"  she  asked. 
"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  would  not  marry  him  for 
all  the  world  ?  No !  No !  M'sieu,  it  is  not  that  that 
troubles  me.  It  is  something  worse." 

There  was  an  unmistakable  note  of  relief  in  Carey's 
voice  when  he  answered  her,  and  laying  his  hand  lightly 
upon  the  girl's  arm  he  pointed  toward  the  chair  that  he 
had  placed  by  the  fire. 

"  Sit  down,  Aline,"  said  he,  "  and  then  you  must 
tell  me  what  troubles  you.  You  are  cold  and  tired,  and 
you  must  rest  yourself  before  you  speak." 

He  led  her  gently  toward  the  chair  and  helped  her 
into  it. 

With  a  sigh  of  weariness  the  girl  seated  herself  and 
held  out  her  numb  fingers  toward  the  welcome  blaze. 

"  Thank  you,  M'sieu,"  said  she.  "  It  is  cold  out 
doors  and  I  am  tired,  for  I  have  walked  all  the  way 
from  Landry.  My  uncle  stayed  behind  to  attend  to 
some  matters  and  I  hurried  home  to  gather  our  few 

439 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

poor  things  together,  for  we  are  going  to  leave  Bel- 
rive,  M'sieu." 

She  turned  away  her  head  as  she  spoke,  while  Carey 
gazed  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  You  are  going  to  leave  Belrive?  "  he  cried.  "  You 
cannot  mean  what  you  are  saying." 

Aline  smiled  sadly.  "  It  is  the  truth  that  I  am  tell 
ing  you,"  replied  she.  "  I  have  been  very  happy  here, 
and  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  M'sieu;  almost  too 
kind  I  am  afraid,  for  it  is  on  account  of  your  kindness 
that  I  am  forced  to  leave." 

Her  voice  broke,  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  sobbing. 

"  If  you  do  not  understand  I  will  explain  to  you, 
M'sieu,"  she  added  slowly  without  raising  her  head. 

Carey  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence,  staring  at  the 
fire,  the  red  flush  of  anger  rising  in  his  cheeks,  and 
then  he  very  slowly  nodded  his  understanding. 

"  I  think  that  I  know  what  you  mean,  Aline,"  said 
he  quietly,  "  but  you  must  tell  me  all.  I  know  that  it 
will  be  painful  to  do  so,  but  perhaps  I  can  help  you, 
and  I  think  that  it  is  my  right  to  know." 

The  girl  raised  her  head  and  faced  him  bravely,  her 
love  shining  through  her  tear-stained  eyes  as  the  sun 
beams  shine  through  the  clouds  of  a  rain-swept  sky. 

"  Yes,  M'sieu,"  said  she.  "  It  is  your  right  to  know. 
I  will  first  tell  you  of  Numa,  and  of  what  he  said  to 
me  yesterday.  He  came  as  you  said  he  would  a  little  be 
fore  sunset,  and  he  asked  me  again  to  marry  him.  Again 
I  told  him  that  I  could  not  do  so,  and  I  tried  my  best 

to  make  it  easy  for  him,  to  comfort  him,  and  he " 

440 


OLD   TELESSE    SEEKS   A    RECKONING 

She  paused,  her  cheeks  flushing  at  the  thought  of 
Numa's  cruelty. 

"  And  he?  "  asked  Carey  anxiously. 

"  And  he  behaved  like  the  wild,  bad  creature  that 
he  is,  M'sieu,"  answered  the  girl.  "  He  thought  that 
I  was  mocking  him,  and  he  called  me  hard  and  cruel, 
and  then,  M'sieu,  I  told  him  that  which  I  have  told  no 
one.  When  you  spoke  to  me  so  kindly  of  him  I  deter 
mined  to  give  him  a  chance  to  prove  his  love,  and  if  he 
had  acted  kindly  I  might  have  married  him  as  he  wished 
me  to,  in  the  days  to  come.  I  gave  him  his  chance,  and 
through  his  own  wickedness  of  heart  he  threw  it  away, 
and  when  I  told  him  that  he  had  done  so  he  told  me  of 
that  which  is  said  of  me  at  Landry,  of  that  which  I 
have  but  a  short  while  ago  heard  with  my  own  ears. 
He  mocked  me  and  taunted  me,  M'sieu,  until  I  could 
have  died  of  shame. 

"  He  asked  me  who  I  was,  to  refuse  his  love  after 
what  was  said  of  me,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  it 
was,  he  bade  me  go  myself  and  learn. 

"  And  so  I  went  this  morning,  M'sieu,  and  I  have 
heard — I  have  heard  what  they  say  of  me — a  poor 
creature  that  they  would  never  think  of  save  to  harm. 
Ah!  M'sieu,  my  heart  is  broken  that  they  should  say 
such  things  of  me.  I  have  come  out  into  the  world 
like  the  poor,  weak  forest  creature  that  I  am,  and  they 
have  wounded  me,  even  as  they  always  wound  the  other 
creatures  of  the  forest.  It  is  left  for  me  now  to  creep 
back  to  the  woods  again  and  heal  my  hurt  as  best  I 
may." 

Rising  from  her  chair  she  went  over  to  the  window 

441 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  pointed  out  toward  the  west  where  the  Grand 
Woods  lay,  all  gray  and  brown  in  its  winter  dress  of 
clinging  moss  and  withered  leaves. 

"  See,  M'sieu,"  she  cried,  "  there  is  my  home.  There 
is  where  I  should  have  stayed,  there  where  all  were 
kind  to  me,  where  all  loved  me.  In  all  the  forest, 
M'sieu,  there  was  not  a  creature  that  was  afraid  of  me, 
and  I  left  them  to  come  out  into  the  world  where  all 
are  so  cruel.  Ah !  why  did  I  leave  the  woods  ?  the 
big,  kind  woods  where  the  birds  sang  to  me  all  day  and 
the  great  trees  lulled  me  to  sleep  each  night  with  their 
whispering  music.  See  how  cold  and  sad  the  forest  is 
to-day,  it  looks  as  though  it  felt  for  me  in  my  sorrow. 
It  is  the  one  thing  that  cares  for  me  in  my  trouble  and 
is  kind.  The  only  one  save  you,  M'sieu,  and  I  thank 
you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  I  am  sorry  that  I 
cannot  do  as  you  would  have  me  do  and  marry  Numa, 
for  in  that  way  I  might  pay  you  for  your  kindness,  but 
I  cannot  do  it,  M'sieu,  I  cannot  do  it." 

She  sank  back  in  her  chair  again,  sobbing  pitifully, 
her  head  bowed  with  shame  and  sorrow. 

Carey  went  over  to  the  fireplace  and  looked  at  her 
with  troubled  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  wish  you  to  marry  Numa,  Aline,"  said  he 
softly.  "  It  was  the  one  thing  in  the  world  that  I  did 
not  wish  you  to  do.  I  spoke  to  you  kindly  of  Numa 
because  in  a  moment  of  sudden  sympathy  for  him  I 
promised  him  that  I  would  do  so,  and  I  had  to  keep 
my  promise.  But  the  time  of  the  promise  has  passed, 
and  I  tell  you  now,  Aline,  that  if  you  had  married 
Numa  it  would  have  broken  my  heart." 

442 


OLD   TELESSE    SEEKS   A    RECKONING 

When  he  had  started  speaking  to  the  girl  his  voice 
had  been  soft  and  gentle,  as  it  always  was  when  he 
spoke  to  her — the  voice  of  the  kind  and  generous  mas 
ter.  But  as  he  went  on,  his  heart  overflowing  with  love 
and  pity,  there  came  into  his  voice  a  tone  that  caused 
Aline  to  raise  her  head  and  look  at  him  in  sudden  happy 
amazement. 

"  M'sieu!  "  she  cried,  "  and  so  you  did  not  mean  it? 
Numa  said  that  you  wished  me  to  marry  him  to  be  rid 
of  me,  and  I  knew  that  you  did  not  mean  that,  M'sieu. 
I  knew  that  it  was  not  so." 

For  a  moment  she  faced  him,  radiant  with  love  and 
happiness,  her  eyes  answering  the  silent  message  in  his, 
and  in  that  moment  Carey  cast  discretion  to  the 
winds.  With  a  cry  he  seized  her  in  his  arms  and 
crushed  her  to  him,  heedless  of  the  look  of  terror  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Aline!  Aline!  "  he  cried,  "  I  love  you.  Do  you 
understand?  I  love  you,  and  I  want  you  for  my  wife. 
I  have  loved  you  all  along,  even  as  I  know  that  you 
have  loved  me,  and  now " 

There  was  a  sudden  crash  of  glass  behind  him  and 
he  turned  quickly,  the  girl  still  held  in  his  arms. 

Framed  in  the  jagged  glass  of  the  window  that  he 
had  broken  was  Numa,  his  face  black  with  hate,  his 
eyes  blazing  with  insane  rage  and  jealousy.  In  his 
hands  he  held  a  long,  heavy  rifle,  and  paying  no  heed 
to  the  broken  glass,  that  tore  and  cut  him  cruelly,  he 
thrust  it  into  the  cabin  before  him. 

"  Aha !  M'sieu  Gordon,  my  friend,  M'sieu  Gor 
don  !  "  he  cried  furiously.  "  So  this  is  the  way  in  which 

443 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

you  have  kept  your  promise  to  me.  This  is  what  you 
have  been  doing  while  I  have  been  waiting  in  the  woods. 
No  wonder  Aline  refused  me.  No  wonder  they  say 
what  they  do  of  her  at  Landry.  You  are  a  fine  gentle 
man,  M'sieu  Gordon,  but  you  are  a  poor  friend.  I 
thought  that  you  had  settled  the  debt  that  was  between 
us,  the  debt  that  you  have  owed  me  ever  since  the 
dance,  but  I  have  been  mistaken.  I  always  settle  my 
debts,  M'sieu  Gordon,  for  that  is  my  rule,  so  therefore 
I  will  settle  this  one  now." 

He  raised  his  rifle  as  he  spoke. 

With  a  quick  movement  Carey  thrust  the  girl  behind 
him  and  turned  to  face  his  enemy. 

"  I  have  kept  my  promise  to  you,  Numa,"  said  he 
quietly,  "  and  you  know  well  that  I  have.  You  also 
know  that  you  have  broken  your  promise  in  coming  to 
see  Aline  after  she  refused  you.'* 

He  looked  at  the  man  before  him  unflinchingly. 

Numa,  surprised  at  his  unconcern,  half-lowered  his 
rifle. 

"  What  you  say  is  of  no  use,  M'sieu,"  he  cried 
angrily.  "  I  have  come  to  settle  the  debt  between  us, 
and  I  am  going  to  do  it." 

A  second  time  he  raised  the  rifle,  his  finger  now 
curling  about  the  trigger. 

With  a  scream  of  anguish  Aline  sprang  forward 
toward  the  window. 

"Numa,  Numa!"  she  gasped,  "  do  not  shoot.  I 
will  do  anything  you  ask,  I  will  marry  you  to-day. 
M'sieu  Gordon  kept  his  promise,  I  swear  to  you.  He 

made  me  forgive  you,  he  made  me " 

444 


OLD    TELESSE    SEEKS    A    RECKONING 

There  was  a  sudden  crash  of  smoke  and  flame  and 
the  girl  staggered  back  unsteadily. 

For  a  moment  Numa  stood  in  terrified  surprise, 
aghast  at  what  he  had  done,  and  then,  with  a  splinter 
ing  of  broken  glass,  he  was  gone  as  quickly  and  as 
unexpectedly  as  he  had  come. 

Aline  gave  a  sudden  gasp  and  stumbled  forward 
blindly  upon  her  knees. 

In  an  instant  Carey  had  her  in  his  arms,  striving 
vainly  to  stay  the  bright  crimson  flood  that  ever 
widened  upon  her  bosom.  The  girl  lay  back  against 
him  white  and  still,  her  eyes  closed,  her  cheeks  pale 
and  bloodless. 

With  a  cry  of  agony  Carey  raised  her  drooping  head 
and  called  to  her  desperately. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Aline,"  he  pleaded.  "  Tell  me  that 
you  love  me,  that  you  are  not  going  to  die  in  this  the 
moment  of  our  happiness.  It  is  too  terrible.  It  cannot 
be.  Speak,  Aline,  open  your  eyes  and  speak  to  me." 

He  clasped  her  to  him  in  an  agony  of  despair  and 
raised  her  face  to  his. 

The  girl  sighed  and  opened  her  eyes  weakly.  In  a 
moment  Carey  had  laid  his  face  against  hers,  his  eyes 
filled  with  a  hope  and  a  longing  beyond  words. 

"  Thank  God  you  have  heard,"  he  whispered. 
"  Now  you  must  fight  for  your  life,  your  strength,  until 
some  one  comes  to  us  that  can  help  us.  You  must  fight, 
Aline,  with  all  your  heart,  with  all  your  soul.  You 
cannot  leave  me  now  when  I  love  you  so." 

The  girl  smiled  sadly  and  shook  her  head. 

'*  There  is  no  use  to  fight,  M'sieu"  said  she  weakly. 

445 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  I  am  shot  to  death,  and  I  will  die.  I  can  feel 
it  coming,  M'sieu,  and  there  is  no  use  to  fight 
against  it." 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  lay  back  against  him  again, 
as  though  the  words  had  used  up  her  remaining 
strength. 

Carey  was  sobbing  now,  and  the  shaking  of  his  body 
seemed  to  bring  her  back  for  a  moment  to  consciousness. 

"  No,  no,  M'sieu"  said  she  slowly,  "  you  must  not 
do  that.  It  is  the  will  of  God,  and  surely  He  knows 
best.  It  is  best,  M'sieu,  as  you  yourself  must  know. 
We  never  could  have  married,  for  that  would  have  not 
been  right,  and  we  would  have  both  been  so  unhappy. 
As  it  is,  I  am  dying  happily,  for  you  have  said  that 
you  love  me.  Had  I  lived  after  what  you  told  me  it 
would  have  been  but  a  torture  to  me,  and  now  that  I 
am  going  to  die  it  is  a  happiness.  I  saw  Numa  at  the 
window  when  you  took  me  in  your  arms,  and  I  tried 
to  warn  you,  M'sieu,  but  you  would  not  listen.  It  is 
God's  will,  and  you  cannot  help  but  know  that  it  is  for 
the  best.  And  yet " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  the  love  and  life  that 
were  in  them  struggling  bravely  against  her  overpower 
ing  weakness. 

"  And  yet  I  would  have  been  so  happy  could  I  have 
lived  a  little  longer,  M'sieu.  Could  I  have " 

She  paused  and  raised  an  arm  weakly,  her  face  alight 
with  love,  yet  awestruck  at  the  thought  of  what  she 
was  about  to  ask. 

She  raised  the  arm  halfway  to  his  shoulder  and  hesi 
tated  for  a  moment. 

446 


OLD    TELESSE    SEEKS   A    RECKONING 

"  Could  I  but — "  she  paused,  and  the  dying  light 
in  her  eyes  was  now  appealing. 

"  Ah !  M'sieu,  can  I  but  once?  "  she  whispered.  "  I 
love  you  so,  M'sieu,  and  it  would  be  such  a  happy 
memory  in  the  other  big  world  to  which  I  am  going — 
to  which  I  am  going  all  alone." 

The  other  arm  had  crept  about  his  neck  now,  and 
with  a  sob  Carey  gathered  her  to  him.  For  a  moment 
her  lips  lay  against  his  and  her  cheeks  were  flushed  and 
her  eyes  shining. 

"  So  happy,  M'sieu,  I  am  so  happy,"  she  whispered 
softly. 

She  gasped  suddenly  and  her  body  stiffened  in 
Carey's  arms. 

"  So  happy,  M'sieu/'  she  panted,  and  her  head  sank 
back  wearily,  the  life  and  happiness  vanishing  from  her 
eyes  like  a  light  that  is  suddenly  quenched. 

With  a  cry  of  anguish  Carey  laid  the  limp  body  back 
in  his  arms  and  called  to  her  fiercely,  desperately, 
appealingly. 

"  Aline!  Aline!  "  he  cried,  "  come  back  to  me.  Do 
not  leave  me.  I  love  you,  Aline,  and  if  you  die  the 
happiness  is  all  gone  out  of  my  life." 

He  shook  her  desperately,  chafing  her  cold  hands  and 
laying  his  lips  against  hers  again  and  again,  as  though 
he  hoped  to  infuse  into  her  some  of  the  life  and  warmth 
of  his  own  body,  but  the  girl  lay  white  and  still  like 
death  itself. 

In  his  despair  Carey  beat  upon  the  hard  wooden 
floor  until  his  hands  were  bruised  and  bleeding,  calling 
desperately  for  some  one  to  aid  him. 

447 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

"  Help !  Help !  "  he  cried  again  and  again,  and 
then  after  what  seemed  to  him  an  eternity  his  calls 
were  answered  and  the  door  was  flung  suddenly  open 
to  admit  an  excited  group  of  men. 

In  the  lead  was  old  Telesse,  and  behind  him  came 
Monsieur  Varain  and  Monsieur  Landry. 

The  old  man  halted  upon  the  threshold  of  the  door 
and  stared  before  him  vaguely,  as  though  he  could  not 
believe  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 

"M'sieu!  M'sieu!"  he  cried,  "what  is  the  mat 
ter?  What  has  happened  to  Aline?  " 

He  sprang  toward  the  silent  figure  of  the  girl  in  an 
agony  of  fear  and  apprehension. 

In  a  few  quick  words  Carey  told  them  of  what  had 
happened.  "  It  was  Numa,"  said  he  brokenly.  "  He 
shot  her  through  that  window,  and  if  we  do  not  get  a 
doctor  soon  she  will  bleed  to  death.  Take  my  horse 
one  of  you,  and  hurry  to  Landry.  Do  not  spare  him. 
Thank  God  that  he  is  a  fast  one." 

"  Your  horse  is  gone,"  said  Monsieur  Landry. 
"  Numa  must  have  taken  him,  but  I  will  do  the  best 
that  I  can  in  my  buggy,"  and  the  kind-hearted  store 
keeper  hurried  out  with  tears  in  his  eyes  at  this  sudden 
and  unexpected  calamity. 

"  Poor  Varain,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  It  is  too  sad 
that  he  should  lose  his  grandchild  at  the  moment  of 
his  finding  her." 

In  the  meanwhile,  inside  the  cabin  the  three  men 
had  taken  the  girl  to  her  little  room  and  had  laid  her 
upon  the  bed. 

Monsieur  Varain  knelt  at  the  bedside,  his  face  buried 

448 


OLD    TELESSE    SEEKS    A    RECKONING 

in  the  covers,  his  strong  body  shaking  with  inconsolable 
grief. 

"  She  is  my  grandchild,  my  friends,"  he  sobbed. 
"  The  one  person  in  all  this  world  that  I  hold  dear, 
and  now  at  the  moment  when  after  long  and  weary 
searching  I  have  found  her,  I  am  forced  to  lose  her. 
It  is  a  judgment  upon  me  for  my  wickedness  and  cruelty 
in  the  days  gone  by." 

Mastering  his  grief  with  an  effort,  Carey  went  over 
to  the  older  man  and  laid  his  hand  kindly  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  We  must  be  brave  and  strong,"  said  he.  "  I  love 
her  even  as  you  do,  Monsieur  Varain,  and  I  had  hoped 
to  make  her  my  wife.  And  you  say  that  she  is  your 
grandchild?  When  did  you  learn  of  this?  " 

With  a  sudden  summoning  of  all  his  strength  Mon 
sieur  Varain  straightened  his  bent  figure  and  rising  to 
his  feet  faced  Carey  calmly. 

"  I  learned  of  this  last  night,  after  you  left  me  at 
Landry,  Monsieur,"  said  he.  u  And  so  you  love  this 
girl  and  wish  to  marry  her?  That  is  brave  in 
you,  Monsieur,  when  you  consider  her  birth  and 
station." 

Carey  held  up  his  hand  for  Monsieur  Varain  to 
stop,  and  shook  his  head,  smiling  sadly. 

"  It  was  not  the  birth  and  station  that  I  was  marry 
ing,"  said  he  softly.  "  It  was  the  girl  herself.  Where 
in  all  this  world  is  there  another  as  good,  as  sweet,  and 
as  kind  as  she?  " 

Monsieur  Varain  nodded. 

"  True,"  he  replied,  "  and  if  this  girl  recovers  will 

449 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

you  marry  her,  as  you  have  just  said  you  intended  to 
do?     There  has  been  talk  in  Landry  and " 

"  And  it  has  been  the  talk  of  liars,"  cried  Carey.  "  I 
will  marry  Aline,  if  God  spares  her  to  me,  upon  the 
first  day  that  she  is  well  enough  to  do  so." 

In  a  moment  Monsieur  Varain  was  at  Carey's  side 
and  had  grasped  his  hand  warmly. 

"  You  are  a  gentleman,  Monsieur,  and  what  is  more, 
you  are  a  man,"  said  he.  "  It  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to 
tell  you  that  this  girl,  whom  you  thought  a  poor,  low 
born  creature,  is  as  well  born  as  yourself  and  fit  to  be 
the  wife  of  any  man.  Her  cousin  was  your  guest  at 
Belrive,  her  name  is  Lawrence,  her  family  home  is 
Lawrence  Hall  plantation,  and  here  she  lies  shot  to 
death  by  a  wretch,  and  this — this,  Monsieur,  is  the  end 
of  it  all." 

He  sank  upon  his  knees  at  the  bedside  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

With  a  cry  Carey  staggered  toward  him,  his  grief 
now  too  great  to  bear. 

"  God!  "  he  gasped,  "  to  learn  this  at  this  moment. 
Ah !  what  a  fool  I  have  been.  It  was  her  birth,  the 
heritage  of  her  blood  showing  through  her  sordid  sur 
roundings,  and  I  could  not  see  it.  Why  did  I  not  know 
this  a  week,  a  day  ago.  I  could  have  done  so  much, 
and  now  it  is  too  late,  for  there  is  nothing  to  do,  noth 
ing  to  do." 

He  bowed  his  head  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  despair. 

"  You  are  wrong,  M'sieu,  there  is  something  to  do," 
came  a  voice  from  the  other  room,  and  Carey  looked  up 
quickly. 

450 


OLD    TELESSE   SEEKS   A    RECKONING 

In  the  doorway  stood  old  Telesse,  his  eyes  fastened 
sadly  on  the  still  figure  upon  the  bed.  He  had  left 
the  room  the  moment  that  they  had  made  Aline  com 
fortable,  and  had  shuffled  about  the  living  room  upon 
some  errand  of  his  own. 

As  he  stood  in  the  doorway  he  showed  none  of  the 
grief  that  convulsed  the  features  of  the  other  two  men. 
His  face  was  set  and  gray,  with  never  the  mark  of  a 
tear  upon  it,  and  one  might  have  thought  that  he  felt 
no  pain  but  for  the  look  in  his  eyes.  The  look  of 
stolid,  heart-broken  misery,  that  told  of  a  grief  too 
great  for  words  or  outward  sign. 

In  one  hand  he  held  his  rifle — an  old  muzzle-loader, 
large  and  heavy  and  long  of  barrel — and  holding  it  up 
for  Carey  to  see  he  patted  its  battered  stock  meaningly. 

"  You  are  wrong,  M'sieu,"  said  he  again.  "  There 
is  this  for  Numa." 

Laying  the  rifle  against  the  wall  he  tiptoed  across 
the  room  to  the  bed  and  bent  above  the  still  figure  of 
the  girl.  For  a  moment  his  lips  touched  hers  and  his 
body  shook  with  the  fury  of  his  suppressed  grief.  Then 
he  straightened  himself  suddenly,  and  going  over  to  the 
mantel  took  from  it  the  little  bags  that  held  his  powder 
and  bullets.  Very  carefully  he  drew  out  the  long  ram 
rod  from  his  rifle,  and  very  carefully  he  rammed  home 
the  charge,  his  face  as  expressionless  as  though  it  had 
been  carved  from  solid  stone.  When  he  had  finished 
his  loading  he  put  the  ammunition  back  upon  the  man 
tel,  and  swinging  the  rifle  across  his  shoulder  turned 
to  go. 

"  Aline   will   die,   M'sieu"    said    he    slowly,    "  and 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

Numa  must  answer  for  what  he  has  done.  All  his  life 
he  has  made  me  unhappy,  and  I  have  stood  it  without 
a  word.  But  he  has  gone  too  far,  M'sieu,  and  now  I 
am  going  to  bring  him  back  to  Landry  and  to  punish 
ment.  He  boasts  that  he  always  pays  his  debts,  and 
now  he  owes  a  bigger  one  than  he  has  ever  owed  in 
his  life  before.  I  am  going  to  seek  a  reckoning,  M'sieu, 
and  I  will  bring  him  back  to  Landry,  dead  or  alive." 

In  the  doorway  he  turned  and  looked  toward  the 
bed,  and  for  a  moment  his  head  was  buried  in  the 
hollow  of  his  arm,  for  he  was  again  overcome  by  his 
grief. 

Suddenly  Carey  left  the  bedside  and  hurried  over 
to  him. 

"  Wait,  Telesse,"  said  he.  "  You  have  forgotten 
your  powder  and  bullets.  Numa  will  not  go  with  you 
without  a  struggle,  and  what  if  you  should  miss  the  first 
time?" 

He  went  toward  the  mantel  as  he  spoke,  but  the  old 
man  shook  his  head,  the  stolidness  of  his  face  losing 
itself  for  a  moment  in  a  grim  smile. 

"  No !  No !  M'sieu,  I  shall  not  need  the  powder 
and  the  bullets.  It  was  one  shot  that  killed  Aline,  and 
it  will  be  one  shot  that  will  kill  Numa,"  said  he,  as  he 
softly  closed  the  door  behind  him. 


452 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

LE  BOSSU  TELLS  HIS  STORY 

THE  sun  hung  low  in  the  western  sky  and 
already  the  black  line  of  the  forest  was  faintly 
gilded  with  its  dying  light  when  old  Telesse 
rode  into  the  Grand  Woods  in  search  of  Numa. 

All  day  long  he  had  hunted  in  and  about  Landry, 
with  the  grim  perseverance  born  of  despair.  All  day  long 
he  had  asked  of  those  he  had  met  the  same,  oft-repeated 
question :  u  Have  you  seen  the  man  who  shot  my  girl?  " 
— -while  the  people  shrank  from  the  hopeless  look  in 
his  gray  eyes. 

And  now,  having  heard  no  news  from  the  fugitive, 
he  had  come  to  the  place  where  he  hoped  to  find  him — 
the  place  of  all  others  where  he  thought  that  Numa 
would  be.  Well  did  the  old  man  know  that,  once  in  the 
Grand  Woods,  Numa  would  wait,  for  a  time  at  least, 
until  he  could  find  some  permanent  place  of  safety. 
And  therefore  it  was  that  he  first  searched  the  country 
in  and  about  Landry,  and  came  at  last  to  the  woods 
when  he  had  despaired  of  finding  the  fugitive  else 
where. 

Riding  slowly  down  the  grassy  track  he  came  pres 
ently  to  his  old  cabin,  standing  silent  and  deserted  in 
the  shadows  of  the  barren,  weed-grown  clearing.  For 

453 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

a  moment  he  stopped  before  it  and  sat  with  bent  head 
and  tear-dimmed  eyes,  overcome  by  the  thoughts  of  the 
happy  days  that  he  had  spent  there;  then  he  straight 
ened  himself  in  the  saddle,  his  face  took  on  again  its 
look  of  grim  determination,  and  he  turned  his  pony's 
head  toward  the  deeper  forest  and  Numa's  hut. 

When,  a  little  later,  he  came  upon  it,  he  found  it  as 
silent  and  as  deserted  as  his  own  cabin  had  been,  but  his 
face  was  lit  for  a  moment  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction 
at  sight  of  the  torn,  trampled  turf  about  the  doorway. 
Climbing  quickly  from  the  saddle  he  pushed  open  the 
shaky  door  of  the  hut  and  went  inside. 

Its  one  room  was  in  a  state  of  the  wildest  confusion, 
as  though  its  owner  had  left  it  in  sudden  and  hurried 
flight.  The  few  poor  pieces  of  furniture  were  thrown 
about  it  in  a  broken  heap,  the  blankets  were  gone  from 
the  two  pallets  upon  the  floor,  and  the  tiny  closet  in 
which  the  flour  and  food  was  stored  stood  with  open 
door,  bare  and  empty. 

Pinned  to  the  overturned  table  by  a  long  black  thorn 
was  a  scrap  of  paper  covered  with  loose,  straggling 
writing,  and  the  old  man,  picking  it  up,  gave  it  one 
despairing  glance  and  cast  it  from  him,  for  he  could 
not  read.  The  bit  of  paper  fluttered  lightly  from  his 
hand  and  lay  with  the  writing  downward,  a  tiny  spot 
of  white  against  the  brown  of  the  mud  floor. 

With  a  sigh  of  disappointment  the  old  man  turned 
to  go. 

"  Ah !  if  I  could  but  read,  how  much  I  might  learn 
from  that  writing,"  said  he  to  himself  sadly.  "  Numa 
has  been  here,  and  Jean  also.  But  where  have  they 

454 


LE    BOSSU   TELLS   HIS   STORY 

gone?  Numa  has  left  a  paper  behind  him  for  Jean, 
of  course,  so  therefore  Jean  did  not  come  with  him. 
In  this  paper  Numa  has  told  Jean  of  where  he  has 
gone,  and  I  could  tell  where  he  has  gone  also  if  I  could 
but  read." 

He  reached  down  and  picked  up  the  paper  with 
trembling  hands. 

"  I  must  bring  it  to  Landry  and  ask  some  one  to 
read  it  for  me,"  said  he  resignedly,  as  he  began  to  fold 
it  carefully. 

Suddenly  he  gave  a  startled  cry  and  tore  open  the 
folds  in  feverish  haste,  for  scrawled  upon  the  back  of 
the  paper  in  rough,  crooked  tracery  was  a  tiny  map, 
marked  with  innumerable  dots  and  crosses  and  a  thin, 
crooked  line  that  meant  some  stream. 

For  a  long  time  the  old  man  gazed  upon  it,  and 
then  he  folded  it  up  and  tucked  it  into  the  lining  of 
his  hat. 

"  It  is  the  lie  des  Cypres,"  said^he  to  himself,  as  he 
went  out  to  his  pony.  "  It  is  the  lie  des  Cypres,  and  I 
will  find  Jean  waiting  for  me  at  the  edge  of  the  sea 
marsh." 

Mounting  his  pony  he  made  off  in  a  long,  curving 
line  through  the  swamp  that  opened  before  him  like  a 
great  silent  vault  in  the  shadow  of  the  night.  It  was 
a  long  ride  and  the  slow  pace  of  the  pony  made  it  all 
the  longer,  as  he  picked  his  way  through  the  bewilder 
ing  maze  of  cypress  knees. 

The  sun  sank  below  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  the 
moon  crept  into  the  sky,  filling  the  swamp  with  its 
weird,  white  light. 

455 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

On  every  side  the  trees  rose  in  thick,  straight  lines, 
stretching  away  interminably,  to  be  lost  at  last  in  the 
smoky  haze  of  the  marsh  fog.  Here  were  the  tall 
cypresses — the  monarchs  of  the  swamp — their  tapering 
trunks  fluted  with  many  a  dent  and  hollow,  their  bushy 
tops  all  bearded-  with  feathery  moss,  their  long,  shiny 
knees  dotting  the  ground  far  and  near,  as  though 
placed  there  to  trip  the  daring  stranger  who  would 
invade  the  mystery  of  their  solitude.  And  here  also 
were  the  sweet  gum  trees,  their  roots  sprawling  about 
the  ground  in  great,  twisted  knots,  showing  pale  and 
white  in  the  moonlight,  splotched  with  great  squares  of 
lichen,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  huge,  crawling 
monsters  that,  having  received  their  deathblows,  had 
writhed  and  twisted  themselves  into  a  horrid,  tangled 
mass  awaiting  death. 

Here  also  was  the  vast,  mysterious  silence  of  the 
swamp,  broken  only  by  the  dull,  monotonous  thudding 
of  the  pony's  hoofs  upon  the  soft  ground. 

It  was  a  weird,  uncanny  ride,  and  the  old  man 
heaved  a  great  sigh  of  thankfulness  when  he  finally 
arrived  upon  the  banks  of  the  Bayou  des  Arbres. 

Tying  the  pony  to  a  cypress  tree  he  picked  his  way 
through  the  soft  mud  to  the  water's  edge,  where  a 
battered  pirogue  lay  half-buried  in  the  watery  ooze. 
Very  carefully  the  old  man  slid  it  into  the  water  and 
crept  inside. 

For  a  moment  he  sat  with  bowed  head  and  trembling 
shoulders,  as  though  his  courage  had  failed  him,  and 
then  he  gave  a  sudden  hard  gasp,  and  thrusting  the 
paddle  into  the  soft  mud  of  the  bayou's  bank  gave  a 

456 


LE    BOSSU    TELLS   HIS   STORY 

savage  shove.  The  pirogue  slipped  out  into  the 
shadows  of  the  stream  and  his  journey  to  the  sea  marsh 
was  begun. 

Like  the  ride,  it  was  a  long,  weird  journey,  made 
more  ghostly  by  the  ever-moving  shadows  of  the  trees 
that  hedged  in  the  little  stream  on  either  side. 

And  so  the  pirogue  glided  along  silently  like  some 
dark  specter  under  the  heavy  canopy  of  the  cypress 
swamp,  while  the  stream  grew  narrower  and  narrower 
and  the  trees  grew  thinner  and  thinner,  until  finally  it 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  the  old  man  pad 
dled  more  slowly  and  peered  about  him  anxiously,  awe 
struck  at  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 

Before  him  lay  the  open  sea  marsh,  all  white  and 
silvery  in  the  moonlight,  overhung  with  a  filmy  cloud 
of  mist  and  fog  that  scattered  its  moisture  upon  the 
tall  marsh  grass  in  a  vast  array  of  tiny  drops,  which 
shimmered  softly,  like  pearls.  Far  away  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  barely  discernible  through  the  fog  wreaths, 
a  dark  blot  stood  out  against  the  misty  whiteness  of 
the  marsh,  and  the  old  man,  looking  at  it  for  a  moment, 
swung  his  pirogue  into  the  shadows  of  the  forest  and 
raised  his  voice  in  the  long,  mournful  cry  of  the  marsh 
fowl.  Again  he  called,  and  yet  again,  crouching  in  the 
muddy  bottom  of  the  pirogue,  his  head  bent  forward 
listening  intently,  and  then  from  out  of  the  marsh  came 
an  answering  cry,  faint  and  low  at  first,  rising  louder 
and  then  suddenly  ceasing,  in  perfect  imitation  of  a 
wandering  bird  that  has  finally  returned  to  its  nest. 

The  old  man  nodded  his  head  appreciatively. 

"  Jean  is  wonderful,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  If  he 

457 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

had  not  answered  my  call  I  would  have  sworn  that  it 
was  the  bird  itself."  . 

A  dark  streak  shot  suddenly  down  the  narrow  lane 
of  the  bayou  and  a  pirogue  glided  into  the  shadows 
beside  him. 

Le  Bossu  laid  down  his  paddle  with  a  sigh  of 
satisfaction. 

"  So  you  found  my  map  and  understood  it?"  he 
asked.  "  That  is  good.  Numa  came  to  the  cabin  in 
search  of  food  while  I  was  away,  and  finding  none  he 
left  me  a  note  telling  me  to  bring  him  some  to-night. 
Then  he  went  on  to  his  hiding  place.  I  came  at  once 
to  the  marsh,  and  left  the  map  behind  for  you,  knowing 
that  you  would  come  to  the  woods." 

He  pointed  out  toward  the  dark  blot  with  one  of  his 
long  arms. 

"  Numa  is  out  there  on  the  lie  des  Cypres,"  he  con 
tinued.  "  He  told  me  in  his  note  that  he  had  killed 
Aline.  Is  this  so?  " 

He  asked  the  question  in  a  dull,  hopeless  voice,  well 
knowing  what  the  answer  would  be. 

The  old  man  bowed  his  head. 

"  It  is  so,  Jean,"  answered  he,  "  and  I  have  come  to 
bring  Numa  back  to  Landry  to  answer  for  what  he  has 
done.  I  know  that  you  have  been  his  friend  and  that 
you  would  help  him,  that  you  will  bring  him  food 
to-night.  Now  I  love  you  as  I  would  love  my  son, 
Jean,  but  I  must  tell  you  now  that  you  shall  not  stand 
between  Numa  and  myself  to-night." 

The  old  man's  voice  was  hard,  and  he  laid  a  hand 
meaningly  upon  the  long  rifle  that  lay  across  his  knees. 

458 


LE    BOSSU    TELLS    HIS   STORY 

Le  Bossu  laughed.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  laugh,  for 
it  had  in  it  all  of  the  pent-up  bitterness  and  hatred  of 
many  years.  Thrusting  his  paddle  into  the  bayou  the 
little  man  held  it  up  so  that  the  water  trickled  off  of  it 
in  a  long  row  of  tiny  drops  that  glistened  for  a  moment 
in  the  moonlight  and  then  fell  back  into  the  stream 
again  with  a  soft  splash. 

"  See,"  said  he,  "  I  have  thrust  my  paddle  into  the 
bosom  of  the  bayou  and  I  have  hurt  it  so  that  it  has 
cried.  There  are  the  tears,  Telesse.  In  just  such  a 
way  did  Numa,  long  years  ago,  thrust  into  my  heart, 
and  were  I  to  take  my  paddle  and  do  as  I  have  just 
done  from  the  mouth  of  the  bayou  far,  far  out  into  the 
great  sea,  I  would  not  bring  forth  the  tears  of  bitter 
ness,  of  agony  that  his  wickedness  has  caused  me. 
Listen,  Telesse,  for  I  am  going  to  tell  you  to-night 
that  which  I  have  told  to  no  one. 

"  You  say  that  Numa  is  my  friend,  as  all  say  he  is? 
Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  sort  of  a  friend  I  am 
to  Numa.  Le  Sauvage  was  my  father,  Telesse,  and  I 
was  born  in  the  house  where  he  was  shot,  near  Landry. 
Of  him  I  will  tell  you  nothing,  as  you  have  heard  his 
story  so  many  times,  and  I  will  tell  you  therefore  of  my 
life  with  the  old  woman  in  whose  keeping  he  left  me 
when  he  returned  to  die  at  Landry.  She  was  a  good 
old  woman,  Telesse,  a  member  of  his  band,  and  she 
lived  on  one  of  the  islands  far  out  to  the  east  from  the 
one  where  Numa  now  is.  When  she  was  driven  from 
her  home  along  with  the  rest  by  les  Figilantes,  she 
went  with  me  to  the  swamp  near  Mouton,  and  it  was 
there  that  I  grew  up.  It  was  there  that  I  grew  up  tall 

459 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  straight  and  good  to  see,  for  you  must  know  that 
in  those  days  I  was  not  bent  and  twisted  by  the  anger 
of  God  as  I  am  now. 

"  We  lived  in  a  little  cabin  far  down  in  the  swamp, 
the  old  woman  and  I,  and  it  was  then  that  I  learned 
that  which  I  know  of  the  forest  and  of  the  wild  things 
that  live  there. 

"  All  through  the  bright  summer  and  all  through 
the  cold  winter  I  worked  cutting  down  the  tall  cypress 
trees,  and  the  dollars  that  I  brought  each  month  to  the 
old  woman  were  many,  for  I  was  straight  and  strong, 
and  I  worked  well  in  those  days. 

"  And  so  I  lived  in  the  swamp  and  grew  to  be  a 
man  and  was  as  happy  as  the  birds  that  sang  about  me 
as  I  worked,  and  then  came  to  me  my  first  sorrow. 
The  old  woman  died." 

Le  Bossu  faltered,  and  again  he  thrust  the  paddle 
into  the  water  and  watched  the  drops  as  they  splashed 
slowly  down  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Tears,  Telesse,"  said  he  sadly.  "  My  first  ones. 
I  knew  not  what  it  was  to  be  unhappy.  I  buried  her 
with  my  own  hands,  near  the  little  cabin,  and  then  I 
set  out  from  the  swamp  and  walked  many  days,  for  I 
had  to  forget  my  sorrow.  And  so  at  last  I  came  into 
the  prairies,  and  I  looked  at  them  in  wonder,  for  I  had 
never  seen  such  a  country  before.  And  then  one  even 
ing,  when  my  heart  was  sore  and  my  body  was  weary 
from  my  long  journey,  I  came  to  a  house  far  out  in  the 
prairie,  and  I  found  what  I  had  come  so  far  to  find — 
peace  and  happiness  once  more. 

"  It  was  a  girl,  Telesse,  and  such  a  girl." 

460 


LE    BOSSU    TELLS   HIS   STORY 

The  little  man  paused  and  held  out  his  arms  as 
though  he  strove  to  grasp  in  them  the  image  that  was 
before  him  in  his  memory.  In  his  eyes  there  was  a 
light  that  the  old  man  had  never  seen  there  before,  and 
the  happy  smile  upon  his  lips  was  the  first  one  that  had 
been  there  for  many  a  day. 

"  It  was  in  the  evening,  Telesse,"  said  he  softly, 
"  and  as  I  came  upon  her  the  sun  was  setting  behind  the 
edge  of  the  prairie,  the  great  prairie  that  was  as  empty 
and  as  lonely  as  my  own  heart  was;  the  prairie  that 
was  filled  with  love  and  life  when  my  eyes  rested  on 
her,  even  as  my  heart  was  also. 

"  Her  name  was  Madelaine — the  little  Madelaine, 
I  called  her — and  the  name  suited  her  well,  for  she 
was  very  small.  Her  cheeks  were  like  the  flush  of  the 
setting  sun,  her  smile  was  like  the  dawn  when  it  wakes 
the  flowers  in  the  early  morning,  and  her  eyes,  her  eyes, 
Telesse,  were  like  the  waters  in  the  forest  when  they 
hold  upon  their  bosom  the  picture  of  the  heavens,  all 
warm  and  dancing  in  the  sunlight. 

"  I  loved  her  from  the  moment  that  I  saw  her,  and 
in  the  happy  days  that  I  spent  in  the  prairie  I  taught  her 
to  love  me  also,  and  the  sadness  in  my  heart  was  gone, 
and  I  was  very  happy — happy  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life. 

"  And  so  I  stayed  in  the  prairie  until  I  could  stay  no 
more,  and  then  I  left  the  girl  and  went  back  to  my 
home  in  the  swamp,  to  work  and  make  the  money  for 
our  wedding  day.  It  was  happy  work,  Telesse,  for  the 
thought  was  ever  with  me  of  what  my  work  would 
bring  me,  and  so  the  days  went  on,  and  at  last  I  had 

461 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

made  the  money  that  I  needed  to  bring  me  my 
happiness. 

"  It  was  a  bright  day  in  the  early  winter  when  I  set 
out  for  the  prairie,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  I  went  along 
that  the  whole  world  was  rejoicing  with  me  in  my 
happiness,  for  never  was  the  sky  as  blue,  never  were 
the  flowers  as  sweet,  and  never  did  the  birds  sing  as 
gladly  as  they  did  upon  my  wedding  day.  And  so  I 
set  out  after  my  lovely  bride,  happier  than  I  had  ever 
been  in  my  life  before,  and  when  I  came  to  the  house 
in  the  prairie,  and  ran  forward  in  my  eagerness  to  see 
her,  the  old  man  with  whom  she  lived  met  me  at  the 
gate,  all  bowed  and  broken  by  sorrow,  and  told 
me " 

The  little  man  paused  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  while  his  poor  twisted  body  shook  with  the 
memory  that  came  back  to  him.  Suddenly  he  raised 
his  white  face  and  laughed,  the  harsh  sound  going  out 
across  the  silent  marsh  like  the  cry  of  a  lost  soul.  Dip 
ping  his  hand  in  the  water  Le  Bossu  shook  the  drops 
in  a  whirling  spray  before  him. 

"  More  tears,  Telesse,  many  more  tears, "  said  he 
bitterly.  "  The  old  man  told  me  that  while  I  was  at 
work  in  the  swamp  making  the  money  for  my  wedding, 
another  lover  had  come  to  the  prairie.  A  bad  lover, 
Telesse,  who  taught  the  girl  to  forget  me  and  to  love 
him.  Who  disgraced  her,  Telesse,  and  then  left  her 
to  bear  her  shame  alone.  And  she  had  left  her  home 
and  had  gone  away,  they  knew  not  where,  and  that — 
that  was  my  wedding  day. 

"  The  man,  as  you  must  know,  was  Numa,  and  I 

462 


LE    BOSSU    TELLS   HIS   STORY 

swore  that  I  would  never  rest  until  I  had  killed  him. 
For  two  long  weeks  I  searched  for  him  in  vain,  and  in 
those  weeks  I  went  many  times  to  Mouton  and  drank 
the  liquor  that  they  sold  there  to  drown  the  thoughts 
that  ever  came  to  me. 

"  And  in  that  time  the  money  that  I  had  made  for 
my  wedding  slipped  away  as  easily  as  the  water  that  a 
moment  ago  I  poured  from  my  hand,  and  I  found 
myself  penniless  and  unable  to  go  on  with  my  search 
for  Numa. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  went  back  to  the  swamp  to  work 
for  more  money,  and  so  the  days  passed  bitterly,  until 
there  came  to  me  the  bitterest  day  of  all. 

"  It  was  deep  in  the  swamp  that  it  happened,  Telesse, 
and  I  had  worked  hard,  standing  up  in  my  pirogue  to 
chop  down  a  tall  cypress,  the  largest  in  all  the  forest. 
Deep  into  its  yellow  heart  I  drove  my  ax,  and  then  as 
it  began  to  groan  and  crack  and  tremble  I  pushed  hard 
with  my  paddle  to  get  away,  and  the  pirogue  did  not 
move.  I  can  hear  the  roar  of  the  great  tree  now  as  it 
came  down  upon  me,  crying  out  in  the  happiness  of  its 
revenge,  and  it  was  then,  in  the  moment  of  its  falling, 
that  I  knew  that  God  was  angry  with  me  and  was  pun 
ishing  me.  Punishing  me  for  the  murder  that  was  in 
my  heart,  punishing  me  for  my  vow  of  vengeance  and 
my  drinking.  It  was  many  months  before  I  was  well 
again,  and  when  I  crept  from  my  bed  I  was  the  poor 
twisted  creature  that  I  am  now,  but  I  had  learned  my 
lesson. 

"  I  found  Numa  in  the  days  that  followed,  but  I 
did  not  kill  him,  for  I  knew  that  God  did  not  wish  it, 

463 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

so  I  became  his  friend  and  made  another  vow.  I  vowed 
that  I  would  stay  with  him  all  my  life  until  some  one 
took  upon  him  the  revenge  that  God  had  forbidden  me 
to  take,  or  until  he  gave  me  some  good  reason  for 
killing  him. 

"  If  he  had  ever  struck  me  once,  Telesse,  I  would 
have  killed  him.  If  he  had  ever  given  me  any  good 
reason  to,  I  would  have  stabbed  him  with  the  knife  that 
I  have  always  carried,  for  that  would  not  have  been 
revenge.  But  he  never  gave  me  any  reason  for  killing 
•him  in  all  the  time  that  we  lived  together. 

"  There  was  once  a  time  in  Landry,  last  winter, 
when  I  had  my  knife  raised  above  him,  but  there  came 
a  sign  from  heaven,  and  I  did  not  strike. 

u  And  so  you  know  all  now,  Telesse,  and  you  must 
know  also  that  the  time  that  I  have  been  waiting  for 
has  come  at  last.  You  are  here  to  take  Numa  back 
to  Landry,  and  I  am  here  to  help  you." 

The  old  man  reached  across  his  pirogue  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  Le  Bossu's  shoulder. 

"  Poor  Jean,"  said  he,  "  how  I  pity  you.  And  now 
for  Numa." 

He  picked  up  his  paddle  as  he  spoke,  but  Le  Bossu 
seized  his  arm. 

"Are  you  mad,  Telesse?"  he  cried.  "If  you  go 
out  on  the  open  marsh  Numa  will  shoot  you  like  a  dog. 
There  is  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  I  have  planned  it 
all  while  waiting  for  you.  If  I  get  you  out  on  the  lie 
des  Cypres  safely  you  will  bring  Numa  back  with  you, 
will  you  not?  You  will  give  me  your  promise  that  you 
will  bring  him  back  dead  or  alive?  You  will  tell  him 

464 


LE    BOSSU    TELLS   HIS   STORY 

that  I  sent  you  for  the  sake  of  the  little  Madelaine, 
before  you  bring  him  oft"  the  island  dead  or  alive?  " 

Le  Bossu's  voice  trembled  with  excitement  and  his 
eyes  glowed  eagerly. 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"  I  will  bring  him  back  dead  or  alive,  and  I  will  tell 
him  that  you  sent  me  for  the  sake  of  the  little  Made 
laine,  I  promise  you,"  answered  he. 

Le  Bossu  leaned  forward  in  his  pirogue  and  smiled 
his  approval. 

"  That  is  right,"  he  whispered,  "  and  now  I  will 
tell  you  my  plan.  In  his  note  Numa  told  me  to  bring 
him  food  to-night  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  to 
burn  some  grass  as  a  signal  for  him  to  come  and  get 
it.  He  knows  that  I  cannot  bring  it  to  him,  as  the 
marsh  is  heavy  and  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  cross  it. 
Now  you  must  go  far  out  on  the  eastern  edge  of  the 
forest  until  the  island  is  between  you  and  where  we 
are  now.  There  you  must  wait  until  you  see  the  signal 
burning,  and  then  as  Numa  leaves  the  island  you  must 
come  onto  it  from  behind  and  be  waiting  there  for  him 
when  he  returns.  He  will  come  back  from  this  edge 
of  the  forest  to  the  island,  and  you  must  hide  behind 
the  great  oak  that  is  there.  Keep  your  rifle  on  him 
from  the  time  that  you  see  him,  and  do  not  attempt 
to  capture  him  until  he  lays  down  his  own.  It  is  a 
hard  task,  Telesse,  and  the  marsh  is  heavy,  so  you 
had  best  be  going  before  it  grows  too  late  and  Numa 
becomes  suspicious.  I  will  give  you  plenty  of  time  to 
get  behind  the  island  before  I  burn  the  signal." 

The  old  man  stepped  from  his  pirogue  and  pulled  it 

465 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

out  onto  the  low  bank  of  the  bayou.  Then  he  reached 
out  a  hand  to  Le  Bossu. 

"  Good-by,  Jean,"  said  he.  "  You  are  a  good  boy, 
and  I  thank  you.  If  I  do  not  come  back,  you  will  seek 
yourself  to  capture  Numa,  I  know,  and  will  lead  those 
at  Landry  to  his  hiding  place.  Do  not  grieve  for  me, 
Jean,  if  I  should  not  come  back,  for  since  Aline  is  dead 
I  do  not  care  so  much  to  live.  In  a  short  while  there 
will  be  two  of  us  on  lie  des  Cypres,  and  you  know 
yourself  that  but  one  of  us  will  come  back  alive.  And 
so  good-by,  Jean,  good-by  and  God  bless  you." 

The  little  man  held  the  proffered  hand  for  a  moment 
and  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  finally 
let  it  go. 

"  You  will  find  me  here,  Telesse,  when  you  return, 
and  together  we  will  bring  Numa  to  Landry,"  said  he 
slowly.  "  We  will  bring  him  in  the  pirogue,  by  way 
of  Bayou  Portage,  for  it  is  lonely  there,  and  we  will 
have  none  to  trouble  us.  You  will  come  back,  Telesse, 
never  fear.  God  is  just." 

The  old  man  swung  his  rifle  across  his  shoulder,  and 
started  away.  For  a  moment  he  turned  and  looked  once 
more  at  Le  Bossu,  and  then  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  he 
plunged  into  the  dark  labyrinth  of  the  forest. 

Straight  to  the  east  he  held,  ever  keeping  the  island 
in  view,  and  when  after  an  hour's  steady  walking 
through  the  heavy  mire  at  the  forest's  edge,  he  finally 
paused,  a  dark  blot  marred  the  open  sweep  of  marsh 
that  stretched  away  to  the  point  where  he  had  left 
Le  Bossu. 

Sitting  down  upon  a  fallen  tree  the  old  man  drew 

466 


LE    BOSSU   TELLS   HIS   STORY 

an  arm  across  his  face,  for  despite  the  cold  wind  that 
blew  from  the  north  it  was  wet  with  perspiration. 

Holding  up  his  arm  in  the  moonlight  he  smiled  at  it 
grimly. 

"  More  tears  for  Numa,"  said  he  slowly,  and  as  he 
spoke  a  flash  of  light  showed  for  a  moment  in  the 
western  fog  before  him. 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  sigh  of  weariness. 

"  I  have  walked  very  slowly  or  Jean  is  in  a  hurry," 
said  he  to  himself,  and  taking  up  his  rifle  he  stepped 
into  the  marsh,  striking  out  across  its  treacherous  depths 
toward  the  lie  des  Cypres,  that  showed  so  faint  and 
ghostly  in  the  grip  of  the  moonlit  fog. 


467 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

NUMA  PAYS  HIS  DEBTS 

FAR  out  in  the  desolate  sea  marsh  stood  the  lie 
des  Cypres — a  little  mound  of  dry,  clayey  soil 
thrust  up  by  some  freak  of  nature  from  the 
muddy,  rush-grown  flat  about  it.  There  it  stood  in  the 
silvery  moonlight,  thickly  grown  with  myrtle,  with 
casino,  and  ragged,  stunted  palmettoes,  laced  with  the 
myriad  of  shadows  cast  by  the  single  huge  live  oak  that 
stood  sentinel  upon  it. 

And  behind  this  oak  a  man  lay  waiting — an  old, 
withered  man,  worn  and  tired,  and  smeared  from  head 
to  foot  with  slimy  mud  from  his  long  journey  across 
the  treacherous  sea  marsh.  Crouching  behind  the 
gnarled,  weather-beaten  trunk  he  waited  patiently,  his 
rifle  ready  in  his  hand,  his  head  bent  forward  eagerly, 
listening:  ever  listening  for  some  warning  sound  from 
the  great  white  waste  about  him. 

It  was  very  quiet  on  the  lie  des  Cypres,  and  the 
noises  from  the  marsh  came  loud  and  clear.  The  hoarse 
croaking  of  the  frogs,  the  squeak  and  patter  of  the 
muskrats,  and  the  long,  mournful  cries  of  the  marsh 
fowl  that  whirled  in  endless  flight  through  the  misty 
fog  wreaths,  as  though  doomed  by  some  relentless  fate 
to  flutter  restlessly  through  all  their  wretched  lives. 

But  save  for  these  sounds  the  silence  of  the  marsh 

468 


NUMA    PAYS    HIS    DEBTS 

was  unbroken,  and  after  a  while  the  watcher  crept  cau 
tiously  from  his  hiding  place  and  bent  above  the  rude 
fire  that  burned  fitfully  near  the  foot  of  the  great  oak. 
He  was  numb  and  cold  from  his  long  journey,  for  the 
north  wind  was  bitter  as  it  swept  across  the  barren 
marsh,  and  the  heat  of  the  fire  was  grateful  to  his 
shivering  body. 

How  long  he  knelt  by  the  flickering  fire  he  did  not 
know.  The  wood  burned  itself  away  to  dull,  glowing 
embers,  the  stars  paled,  the  moonlight  lost  itself  in  the 
swaying  shadows,  and  the  wind  blew  cool  and  strong, 
fresh  with  the  sweetness  of  the  coming  day. 

A  sudden  sound  broke  the  silence  of  the  dying  night 
and  the  old  man  crept  cautiously  to  his  hiding  place 
again.  Once  more  came  the  sound,  the  low,  whistling, 
sucking  sound  of  the  marsh,  as  it  reluctantly  releases 
its  grasp  upon  the  feet  of  those  who  dare  to  tread  the 
many  pitfalls  of  its  muddy  depths. 

The  old  man  grasped  his  rifle  tightly  and  listened  to 
the  sound  as  it  came  nearer  and  nearer,  sucking,  pop 
ping,  whistling,  broken  now  and  then  with  the  sullen 
splashing  of  shallow  water. 

In  the  east  a  long  rosy  streak  showed  suddenly 
against  the  darkness  of  the  sky.  The  trees  began  to 
show  themselves  slowly  in  the  growing  light.  The 
palmettoes  thrust  their  long  fingers  skyward  and  waved 
them  wildly  in  the  morning  breeze.  The  myrtles  shook 
their  tiny  leaves  joyously,  as  though  in  sudden  merri 
ment  at  the  coming  of  the  morning.  The  old  man 
crouched  low  in  the  shadow  of  the  oak  and  waited 
breathlessly. 

469 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

The  noise  from  the  marsh  came  loud  and  clear,  and 
then  it  ceased  entirely.  There  was  a  sudden  crashing, 
breaking  sound  from  the  thick  growth  of  myrtles  upon 
the  island's  edge,  and  a  man  dragged  himself  slowly 
into  the  little  clearing  by  the  oak  tree. 

It  was  Numa. 

Peeping  cautiously  from  his  hiding  place  the  old  man 
gave  him  a  quick  glance  and  sank  down  again  in  silent 
amazement,  for  he  did  not  know  the  Numa  that  stood 
before  him. 

Gone  was  the  old,  careless,  boyish  look  that  had 
made  his  face  so  handsome.  Gone  was  the  quick  spar 
kle  of  his  eye,  the  bright  happy  smile  upon  his  lips, 
and  in  their  place  was  the  dull,  lifeless  look  of  hopeless 
sorrow.  His  face  was  gray  and  drawn  and  his  eyes 
were  dark  with  agony  and  pain. 

Stopping  at  the  fire  he  laid  down  the  food  that  he 
carried  and  placed  a  few  dry  sticks  upon  the  dying 
embers,  his  rifle  ever  ready  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  ever 
fastened  upon  the  thick  hedge  of  myrtles  that  screened 
him  from  the  marsh — eyes  that  were  wide  and  star 
ing  now,  with  the  frightened,  desperate  look  of  the 
hunted. 

A  noise  came  from  the  marsh  and  he  sprang  into 
the  myrtles  with  rifle  cocked  and  ready,  to  return  in  a 
moment  with  ashy  face  and  trembling  limbs,  all  un 
strung  at  the  gnawing  of  some  vagrant  muskrat. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  at  the  fire,  striving  to  control 
himself,  and  then  with  a  hoarse  cry  he  threw  himself 
against  the  great  oak,  trembling  and  sobbing  in  a  frenzy 
of  utter  fear  and  dejection. 

470 


NUMA    PAYS    HIS    DEBTS 

"  Ah,  God!  "  he  cried.  "  What  have  I  done?  What 
have  I  done?  " 

The  wail  of  his  cry  went  out  over  the  desolate  waste 
like  the  moan  of  a  soul  in  torment.  His  rifle  slipped 
from  his  trembling  hand  and  lay  at  his  feet  unheeded. 

The  moment  had  come,  and  the  old  man  stepped 
from  his  hiding  place,  his  long  rifle  leveled  before  him. 

"  I  have  come  to  bring  you  back  to  Landry  and  to 
justice,  Numa,"  said  he. 

With  a  cry  Numa  turned  and  saw  him,  standing  for 
a  moment  in  speechless  terror,  his  face  like  death,  his 
eyes  rolling  about  wildly,  desperately,  seeking  some 
means  of  escape. 

"Telesse!"  he  gasped.  "  How  did  you  get  here? 
Has  Jean  betrayed  me?  Jean,  the  one  friend  that  I 
thought  would  help  me?  " 

He  lay  back  against  the  tree  and  his  arms  dropped 
to  his  side  in  apparent  weariness. 

The  old  man  shoved  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  against 
Numa's  breast  and  shook  his  head  meaningly. 

"  No,  no,  Numa,"  said  he.  "  We  will  have  none  of 
that.  Keep  up  your  hands  or  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
shoot  you." 

Numa's  hands  went  up  instantly,  and  again  he  asked 
his  question. 

"  Was  it  Jean  that  betrayed  me?  " 
.    The  old  man  smiled  grimly.     "  Yes,"  answered  he, 
"  it  was  Jean,  and  he  told  me  to  tell  you  why  he  did  it 
before  you  left  this  island.     He  did  it  for  the  sake  of 
the  little  Madelaine." 

Numa's  face  was  ghastly  in  the  light  of  the  coming 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

day  and  his  hand  went  for  a  moment  to  his  throat  as 
though  he  were  choking. 

"  The  little  Madelaine,"  he  whispered  hoarsely, 
"  and  Jean  was " 

"  To  have  married  her,"  answered  the  old  man 
slowly. 

Numa's  head  sank  upon  his  breast. 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  he  moaned.  "  That  is  why  Jean  was 
ever  with  me,  waiting  for  his  revenge.  And  you, 
Telesse,  think  of  how  I  have  tortured  you  with  the 
memory  of  the  man  that  you  did  not  mean  to  kill,  and 
Aline — God !  but  I  owe  a  debt,  Telesse,  an  awful  debt, 
and  I  must  pay  it  all  to  you,  to  the  world,  before  I  go." 

The  old  man  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  Numa,"  said  he,  "  you  owe  a  great  debt,  and 
you  must  pay  it.  All  your  life  you  have  made  my  life 
a  torture  to  me  with  your  threats.  All  your  life  you 
have  played  upon  my  fears,  making  me  do  that  which 
I  should  not  have  done,  and  now  it  is  only  just  that  I 
should  bring  you  back  to  the  punishment  that  you 
deserve.  I  stood  your  threats,  Numa,  and  did  for  the 
most  part  what  you  commanded  me,  and  perhaps  I 
should  have  gone  on  in  that  way  to  the  end  of  my  days 
had  you  not  gone  a  step  too  far.  You  may  tell  them  all 
that  you  know  of  me  in  Landry  when  I  bring  you  there, 
but  bring  you  there  I  will.  Why  did  you  kill  Aline, 
Numa?  The  girl  that  you  loved,  the  poor,  innocent 
child  that  never  did  you  any  harm.  Why  did  you  do  it, 
I  say?" 

The  old  man's  voice  was  commanding  and  his  gray 
eyes  flashed  as  Numa  had  never  seen  them  flash  before. 

472 


NUMA    PAYS    HIS    DEBTS 

Numa  raised  a  hand  to  heaven. 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  I  did  not  mean  to  kill  Aline," 
answered  he.  "  The  shot  was  meant  for  M'sieu  Gor 
don.  I  aimed  at  him  carefully  through  the  window 
and  then  as  I  pulled  the  trigger  Aline  rushed  before  him 
and " 

His  voice  broke  and  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands  as  though  to  shut  out  the  vision  that  came  to 
him. 

"  And  then  you  killed  her — my  child  and  your  loved 
one,"  the  old  man  finished  for  him  sadly.  "  Why  did 
you  do  it,  Numa?  Why  did  you  do  it?  I  could  have 
stood  all  your  threats,  your  torture — anything  but 
that." 

Numa  sighed  and  drew  his  hand  across  his  ashen 
face. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  It  is  all  like  some  horrible  dream," 
he  groaned.  "  It  cannot  be  true,  and  yet  it  is  true. 
Ah!  Telesse,  Telesse,  what  have  I  done?  What  have 
I  done?" 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  quietly  against  the  tree, 
apparently  exhausted  by  the  emotion  that  tore  his  very 
soul. 

After  a  time  he  raised  his  head  wearily  and  held  out 
his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"  I  am  ready  to  go,  Telesse,"  said  he  brokenly. 
"  You  may  tie  my  hands  and  I  will  go  before  you  as 
peacefully  as  a  child,  for  my  heart  is  broken." 

The  old  man,  caught  by  the  ruse,  lowered  his  rifle 
and  fumbled  in  one  of  the  pockets  of  his  coat. 

"  I  had  a  piece  of  cord  when  I  left — "  he  began, 

473 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  then  he  stopped  suddenly,  for  Numa  had  stooped 
for  his  weapon  like  a  flash  and  was  rising  with  it  ready 
in  his  hands. 

The  old  man's  rifle  leaped  to  his  shoulder,  a  long, 
black  streak,  and  the  roar  of  it  rolled  out  upon  the 
marsh  like  the  thunder  of  some  monstrous  cannon,  scar 
ing  the  marsh  fowl  until  they  filled  the  air  in  whirling 
clouds,  screaming  discordantly. 

Numa's  rifle  clattered  to  the  ground  and  he  stag 
gered  against  the  oak,  clutching  wildly  at  the  ragged 
hole  in  his  breast. 

"  God !  Telesse,  you  have  killed  me,"  he  panted. 
"  I  never  thought  that  you  would  do  it." 

He  laughed  horribly  and  drew  his  hand  across  his 
brow,  leaving  a  long  bloody  smear  behind  it. 

"  You  will  take  me  back  to  Landry,  and  I  will  go 
even  as  I  said  I  would — like — like — a  little  child,"  he 
sobbed  as  he  staggered  to  the  ground. 

The  old  man  bent  over  him  and  tried  with  trembling 
hands  to  soothe  him. 

"  You  made  me  do  it,  Numa,"  he  faltered.  "  If  you 
had  gone  quietly  I  would  not  have  harmed  you." 

Numa  shoved  him  away  impatiently  and  half-raised 
himself  upon  one  arm. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  whispered,  "  I  know  that.  It  was  a 
desperate  chance  and  I  took  it.  I  did  not  think  that 
you  would  shoot  anyhow.  But  it  does  not  matter.  I 
prayed  for  death,  even  as  you  came  upon  me.  I  wanted 
to  die  fighting,  not  at  the  end  of  a  rope,  and  yet " 

He  paused  choking,  and  lay  back  again  with  closed 
eyes. 

474 


NUMA    PAYS    HIS    DEBTS 

The  old  man  thinking  him  dead,  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  heart,  and  the  pressure  of  his  fingers  awakened 
Numa  from  his  stupor. 

He  shook  his  head  weakly. 

"  No,  no,  Telesse,  not  yet,"  he  sighed.  "  But  it  will 
come — in  a  moment — the  death  of  which  I  have  won 
dered  so  often.  Do  not  think  too  badly  of  me,  Telesse. 
If  Aline  had  loved  me  I  would  have  been  a  different 
man — a  different — man,"  he  murmured  drowsily. 

A  ray  of  light  from  the  rising  sun  fell  across  his  face 
and  roused  him  suddenly. 

"  The  sun,  Telesse,"  he  cried,  his  voice  now  strong 
and  clear.  "  The  sun  is  rising — rising  on  my  last  day. 
Help  me  to  my  feet  that  I  may  see  it  and  die  standing, 
like  a  man." 

The  old  man  lifted  him  carefully  and  then  at  his 
command  let  him  stand  alone. 

For  a  moment  Numa  stood  still  and  straight,  with  all 
of  the  strength  of  his  old,  boyish  figure,  his  eyes  fast 
ened  upon  the  eastern  sky  where  the  sun  was  rising  in 
a  flood  of  gold  and  amber. 

Before  its  growing  light  the  fog  was  melting  away, 
showing  the  brown  stretch  of  the  sea  marsh,  all  fresh 
and  salt,  waving  slowly  in  the  morning  breeze.  And 
back  of  the  marsh  the  Grand  Woods  lay — a  long  reach 
of  purplish-brown  and  gray — rising  faint  and  hazy  in 
the  light  of  the  early  morning. 

Numa  stretched  an  arm  toward  it  longingly. 

uThe  woods!  "  he  cried.  "  My  woods,  my  home, 
and  I  am  looking  at  them  for  the  last  time " 

His  voice  trailed  off  into  a  wail  and  his  head  sank 

475 


ALINE    OF   THE    GRAND    WOODS 

upon  his  breast  in  an  attitude  of  utter  despair.  Sud 
denly  he  gave  a  great  cry  and  staggered  back,  his  eyes 
wide  with  terror. 

"  The — the — death.  It  is  coming,  Telesse,"  he 
shrieked.  "  The  sun  is  rising  and  yet  it  is  growing  dark 
— cold  and  dark." 

He  paused,  swaying  drunkenly,  his  face  convulsed 
with  fear  and  horror. 

"  So — so — cold  and  dark — "  he  panted,  and  then  he 
sighed  and  closed  his  eyes  as  he  stumbled  forward 
upon  his  face. 

Old  Telesse  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment  and  bent 
his  ear  to  the  lips  of  the  dying  man. 

"  Numa,  Numa,  you  are  dying,"  he  cried.  "  Have 
you  anything  for  me  to  tell  them  at  Landry?" 

Very  slowly  Numa  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  again 
— the  old,  careless  smile  that  his  questioner  knew  so 
well. 

"Tell — them — that — that — bad — as — I — have — 
been — I — died — as —  I  — have — lived — for —  I  — paid 
— my — debts — my — debts,"  he  whispered  and  was 

gone. 

******* 

The  stars  shone  down  upon  the  little  village  of  Lan 
dry  and  strove  to  calm  it  with  their  tiny,  twinkling 
lights,  for  it  had  had  an  exciting  day,  and  excitement 
was  a  thing  to  which  it  was  wholly  unused. 

Late  that  evening,  even  as  the  bells  of  the  Angelus 
rang  out  upon  the  quiet  air,  two  men  had  moored  a 
pirogue  upon  the  banks  of  the  Bayou  Portage  and  had 
taken  from  it  the  body  of  a  third  one,  wrapped  tightly 

476 


NUMA   PAYS    HIS    DEBTS 

in  a  swath  of  coarse,  woolen  blankets.  Up  the  wide 
street  they  carried  their  ghastly  burden  to  a  hut  upon 
tihe  edge  of  the  town,  while  the  people  followed  them 
in  a  wondering  throng,  listening  in  breathless  silence  to 
the  story  that  they  told. 

Then  had  come  the  old  Doctor  Lemaire  and  the 
coroner's  jury,  with  its  verdict  of  self-defense,  at  which 
the  people  had  raised  a  loud  cheer  before  they  returned 
to  their  homes,  walking  along  in  little  groups,  talking 
excitedly  with  endless  gestures  of  the  affair  that  had 
broken  the  usual  quiet  of  their  village. 

And  now  the  night  had  lowered  its  dark  curtain  upon 
the  little  drama  of  love  and  life  and  death,  while  the 
actors  rested,  for  they  had  played  their  parts  and  they 
were  tired. 

In  his  cabin  at  Belrive  the  old  man  slept  with  Le 
Bossu,  while  at  the  big  house  Aline  lay  in  restless,  tor 
ment  fighting  bravely  for  the  love  and  life  that  she 
fain  would  win. 

And  in  his  ruined  cabin  on  the  edge  of  the  town 
Numa  slept  the  sleep  of  death — lying  stark  and  still  in 
the  pale  light  of  the  holy  candles. 

Deserted  and  alone  he  lay,  save  for  the  presence  of 
a  single  woman — a  tall,  a  beautiful  woman,  whose 
proud  head  was  bent  low  with  sorrow,  whose  lips  ever 
moved  in  prayer  and  tender  supplication. 

All  through  the  long  night  she  kept  her  solitary 
vigil,  her  hands  softly  caressing  the  dead,  handsome 
face,  and  then,  as  the  sky  grew  gray  with  the  coming 
morning,  the  door  of  the  cabin  opened  slowly  and  a 
man  stood  before  her. 

477 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  gazing  at  her  in  appre 
hensive  silence,  and  then  he  called  to  her  angrily. 

u  What  are  you  doing  here  alone — alone  with  him, 
Jeanne?  "  he  cried. 

The  woman  raised  her  head  wearily,  and  in  her 
haggard  face  he  read  her  unspoken  answer — read  it 
and  knew,  and  turned  away  without  a  word. 

Very  slowly  the  woman  pointed  toward  the  open 
door. 

"Go!  Go!  Jean  Marie,  you  fool,"  she  sobbed. 
"  Go  and  leave  me  with  my  love,"  and  the  man  passed 
out  into  the  newborn  day,  striving  through  his  shallow 
egotism  to  drive  away  the  memory  of  the  dupe  that  he 
had  been. 


478 


CHAPTER    XXX 

CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

IT  was  Christmas  at  Belrive  and  the  big  house  was 
in  the  state  of  cheerful  confusidn  that  always  char 
acterized  that  day.  Even  the  weather  seemed  to 
have  fallen  into  the  holiday  spirit,  for  the  sun  shone 
warm  and  bright  in  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the  wind, 
though  fresh  and  cool,  had  lost  its  blustering  coldness. 

All  through  the  morning  the  negroes  had  trooped 
from  the  quarters  in  a  long,  straggling  line,  laughing, 
shouting,  and  filling  the  air  with  their  endless  cries  of 
"  Crismus  Gif  ";  to  stop  finally  at  the  porch  of  the  big 
house  in  a  state  of  blissful  anticipation.  And  here, 
Carey,  with  the  assistance  of  Marjorie,  handed  out  to 
them  their  presents,  with  many  a  laugh  and  joke  and 
word  of  good  cheer.  Here  the  grinning  negroes 
received  their  gifts — clothes,  tobacco  and  blankets  for 
the  old — scarfs  and  ribbons,  and  gaudy  trinkets  for  the 
young — fruit  and  nuts  and  candy  for  the  children  that 
fought  and  scuffled  noisily  for  the  possession  of  their 
treasures. 

In  the  big  kitchen  Aunt  Felonise  stormed  about 
among  her  throng  of  assistants,  preparing  the  Christ 
mas  dinner,  while  in  the  back  lot  Uncle  Bill  made 

479 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

preparations  for  a  grand  barbecue  that  was  to  be  given 
for  the  field  hands. 

It  was  a  time  for  joyousness  and  merriment,  a  time 
when  every  face  wore  a  smile  of  contentment,  and  the 
happiest,  the  merriest,  the  most  contented  of  them  all, 
was  Monsieur  Varain. 

All  through  the  dark  days  when  Aline  was  battling 
for  her  life,  he  had  stayed  at  Belrive,  watching,  nursing, 
praying,  his  sad  face  sadder  still,  his  gray  head  bent 
with  grief  and  sorrow. 

And  then  had  come  the  time  when  the  grim  angel 
that  had  hovered  about  Belrive  had  folded  its  wings 
and  had  stolen  away,  and  Monsieur  Varain's  face  had 
become  brighter  and  the  days  had  passed  for  him  more 
happily. 

He  had  become  a  great  favorite  of  Aunt  Betty's, 
and  many  and  lively  were  the  arguments  that  he  had 
with  the  little  old  lady — arguments  that  ever  ended  in 
her  favor,  with  the  mention  of  her  dead  husband,  for 
Monsieur  Varain  was  a  model  of  politeness.  At  Mou- 
ton,  the  work  in  his  big  store  went  on  under  the  super 
vision  of  the  faithful  Felix,  whose  wonderfully  worded 
reports  were  among  the  few  things  that  amused  his 
employer  during  the  period  of  Aline's  sickness. 

And  now  Monsieur  Varain  was  spending  his  Christ 
mas  at  Belrive — the  first  happy  Christmas  that  he  had 
spent  in  many  a  year.  All  the  morning  long  he  had 
bustled  about  the  house  in  a  state  of  the  wildest  excite 
ment,  running  upon  the  porch  to  throw  bits  of  silver 
to  the  smiling  negroes,  going  out  with  Aunt  Betty  on 
tours  of  inspection  to  the  kitchen,  making  endless  trips 

480 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

to  the  big  front  parlor  to  see  that  a  certain  armchair, 
that  was  placed  before  the  fire,  was  warm  and  soft 
with  cushions.  Here  he  would  stand  in  blissful  expecta 
tion,  patting  the  pillows,  consulting  his  great  gold 
watch  and  moving  the  chair  from  side  to  side  to  get 
the  proper  effect  of  the  fire,  for  old  Doctor  Lemaire 
had  said  that  at  twelve  o'clock  that  day  Aline  could 
come  downstairs  for  the  first  time,  and  Monsieur 
Varain  must  see  that  everything  was  made  comfortable 
for  her  reception. 

And  there  was  another  at  Belrive  who  awaited  the 
coming  of  the  girl  eagerly  and  happily.  In  the  days 
of  her  sickness  Carey  had  seen  but  little  of  Aline,  and 
in  that  little  he  had  spoken  no  word  of  his  love,  for 
the  old  doctor  had  said  that  there  must  be  nothing  to 
excite  her.  But  now  she  was  brighter  and  stronger 
and  almost  well,  and  he  knew  that  on  this  day  (this, 
the  happiest  of  all  Christmases  for  him)  he  could  speak 
to  her  and  tell  'her  of  that  which  he  longed  to  say. 

It  had  not  been  an  easy  task  to  explain  to  Aline  her 
changed  condition  and  the  new  life  that  was  before  her, 
and  the  kind  words  and  endless  patience  of  Aunt  Betty 
(who  had  been  chosen  for  the  purpose)  created  a  bond 
of  love  between  her  and  the  motherless  girl  that  time 
only  served  to  strengthen.  A  labor  of  love,  Aunt 
Betty  called  it,  and  in  it  she  was  ably  assisted  by  Miss 
Lawrence,  who  had  hurried  to  Belrive  at  the  sudden 
news  that  her  cousin  had  been  found. 

Many  and  pleasant  were  the  hours  that  she  spent 
with  Aline  during  her  convalescence,  telling  her  of  the 
wonders  of  Lawrence  Hall,  recounting  the  stories  that 

481 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

were  still  told  there  of  her  dead  father,  while  the  girl 
listened  to  her  in  silent  wonder,  scarce  believing  that 
it  could  all  be  true.  And  in  these  hours  the  two  cousins 
came  to  love  one  another  with  the  strong,  lasting  affec 
tion  that  was  the  heritage  of  the  Lawrence  blood. 

Of  her  mother  Aline  had  as  yet  heard  but  little,  for 
Monsieur  Varain's  visits  had  been  short  and  there  had 
been  but  little  talking,  by  the  old  doctor's  command. 
But  on  her  pillow  ever  lay  a  photograph — an  old, 
faded  photograph  of  a  quiet,  sweet-faced  girl  that 
smiled  at  her  and  brought  her  peace  and  quiet  in  the 
days  of  her  suffering. 

"  It  is  your  mother/'  Monsieur  Varain  had  said  to 
her  softly  as  he  laid  it  beside  her,  and  at  the  same  time 
he  had  given  her  the  ring  that  in  the  days  gone  by  she 
had  sacrificed  so  bravely. 

And  so  she  had  passed  the  time  of  her  sickness  in 
an  atmosphere  of  peace  and  loving  kindness,  a  peace 
and  kindness  that  she  had  never  known,  growing 
stronger  every  day  both  in  health  and  in  the  affections 
of  those  who  lived  about  her. 

It  had  been  arranged,  as  a  compliment  to  Aunt  Betty, 
that  she  alone  should  attend  Aline  in  her  descent  to 
the  parlor,  and  when,  at  twelve  o'clock,  she  helped  her 
charge  down  the  broad  stairway  her  kind  old  face 
bore  a  look  of  triumphant  happiness  that  was  reminis 
cent  of  a  dozen  spring  pilgrimages  all  rolled  into 
one. 

"  Miss  Aline  Lawrence's  compliments,  and  a  merry 
Christmas  to  you  all,"  she  shouted  gayly  from  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  and  then  in  a  moment  she  had  delivered 

482 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

her  smiling  charge  to  the  excited  little  crowd  that  was 
waiting  in  the  hall  to  receive  her. 

Away  to  the  parlor  and  to  the  big  armchair  they 
bore  her  triumphantly,  and  then,  when  she  was  enthroned 
in  state  before  the  fire,  they  clustered  about  her  with 
words  of  love  and  kindness,  until  the  girl's  pale  cheeks 
were  flushed  with  happiness.  But  in  the  moment  of  her 
happiness  she  did  not  forget  the  ones  that  had  loved  her 
in  the  days  gone  by. 

"  Where  are  my  Uncle  Telesse  and  little  Jean  Le 
Bossu?  "  she  asked  after  a  time. 

Aunt  Betty  smiled  at  her  thoughtfulness. 

"  They  will  come  this  evening,  my  dear,"  answered 
she.  "  We  are  going  to  have  a  little  reception,  followed 
by  dinner,  as  we  always  have  every  Christmas,  and  the 
old  man  and  Le  Bossu  will  be  here  a  little  before  the 
guests  arrive." 

The  girl's  eyes  shone  happily. 

"  Ah!  I  shall  be  so  glad,  so  glad  to  see  them  again," 
said  she. 

And  so  they  sat  and  talked  merrily  before  the  fire 
until  the  tinkle  of  a  bell  warned  them  that  it  was  time 
for  lunch,  and  then  they  all  arose  to  go,  leaving  Aline 
in  the  care  of  Aunt  Betty.  Carey  was  the  last  to  start 
from  the  room,  and  as  he  reached  the  door  Aunt  Betty 
tiptoed  after  him  and  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  There  was  a  suspicious  moisture  in  her  eyes 
as  she  whispered  to  him  and  she  patted  his  cheek  fondly 
for  a  moment  with  one  of  her  wrinkled  hands. 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  her,  my  dear,  I 
chink  that  she  would  like  to  hear  it  now,"  said  she, 

483 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

and  slipping  from  the  room  she  closed  the  door  quietly 
behind  her. 

For  a  moment  Carey  stood  and  looked  at  the  girl 
as  she  lay  back  in  her  chair,  waiting  for  the  return  of 
Aunt  Betty.  Her  face,  though  white  and  pale  from 
her  long  sickness,  had  lost  none  of  its  beauty,  and  as 
she  sat  smiling  in  the  firelight,  her  eyes  shining,  Carey 
thought  that  she  had  never  seemed  as  sweet  and  as 
beautiful  before. 

Very  quietly  he  crossed  the  room  and  knelt  beside 
her  chair. 

"  Aline,  Aline,"  he  whispered,  "  I  have  come  again 
to  tell  you  that  I  love  you.  Many  things  have  hap 
pened  since  I  spoke  to  you  at  the  little  cabin  in  the 
fields.  You  were  poor  then,  and  I  was  -rich  and  your 
master.  Now  you  are  rich,  very  rich,  and  the  condi 
tions  are  changed.  In  the  life  that  is  now  before  you, 
you  will  have  your  choice  of  many  men — better  men 
than  I — but  none  will  love  you  more.  Your  answer  in 
the  cabin  was  'yes.'  What  is  it  now,  Aline?  " 

He  bowed  his  head  and  waited  for  his  answer. 

The  girl  smiled,  and  in  her  eyes  was  the  happiness 
of  a  lifetime. 

"  My  heart  has  not  changed  with  my  fortunes, 
M'sieu"  answered  she.  "  It  seems  that  I  have  loved 
you  always.  I  loved  the  little  boy  that  fought  for  me 
in  the  road  that  day,  so  long  ago,  when  Numa  strove 
to  kiss  me,  for  it  was  you,  M'sieu,  even  though  it 
slipped  so  quickly  from  your  memory. 

"  I  was  a  lonely  child  and  I  did  not  forget  so  easily. 
And  then  I  saw  you  on  the  Bayou  des  Arbres,  and  I 

484 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

knew  in  a  moment  who  you  were,  for  it  was  my  heart 
that  told  me.  And  when  I  came  to  Belrive  you  rescued 
me  again  from  Numa  when  he  sought  to  kiss  me  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  It  was  then,  M'sieu,  that  my  love  came  to  me  in  a 
great  flood  that  lay  heavily  upon  my  heart,  lay  so 
heavily,  and  yet — and  yet — gave  to  me  such  a  strange 
feeling  of  happiness.  I  fought  it,  M'sieu — Mon  Dieu, 
how  I  fought  it,  all  alone,  through  the  long  nights  in 
the  little  cabin,  and  yet  it  grew  and  grew  as  the  days 
passed  on,  until  I  thought  that  I  would  die  with  my 
shame  and  sorrow,  for  I  did  not  think  that  you,  M'sieu 
Gordon,  could  ever  come  to  care  for  me. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  wished  to  return  to  the  woods, 
the  kind  woods  that  I  knew  would  soothe  and  comfort 
me,  and  then  came  Numa  with  his  tale  from  Landry, 
and  my  heart  was  broken.  And  you  came,  M'sieu,  and 
I  was  happy,  and  then  came  the  shot  and  all  was  black 
and  whirling,  but  as  I  lay  in  your  arms  my  love  grew 
and  grew,  until " 

She  paused  and  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  shone 
happily  through  their  mist  of  love.  Very  slowly  her 
arm  crept  about  him  and  her  head  bent  down  toward 
his  own. 

"  Until  sometimes  I  think  that  I  must  have  two 
hearts,  I  love  you  so,  M'sieu/'  she  whispered  softly. 

For  a  moment  Carey  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  then 
he  laid  her  back  among  the  cushions  and  looked  at  her 
rebukingly. 

1  You  must  not  call  me  M'sieu  any  more,"  said  he. 
"  It  is  Carey  now — your  Carey." 

485 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head  and  smiled. 

u  You  will  always  be  M'sieu  to  me,"  she  answered, 
"  my  M'sieu,  as  you  have  always  been."  And  as  Carey 
took  her  in  his  arms  again  she  softly  whispered,  "  My 


Late  in  the  afternoon,  yet  some  time  before  the 
guests  began  to  arrive,  the  old  man  and  Le  Bossu  came 
to  the  big  house,  dressed  in  their  best  and  eager  to  see 
Aline  once  more.  Carey  met  them  upon  the  porch 
and  led  them  into  the  parlor,  where  the  girl  received 
them  with  a  cry  of  joy,  kissing  them  tenderly.  And 
here  Carey  left  them  alone  with  Aline,  to  tell  her  all 
that  had  happened  since  her  sickness,  in  the  woods 
and  at  the  little  cabin  in  the  field  that  had  been  her 
home. 

When  he  returned  toward  nightfall  to  tell  them 
that  the  guests  were  beginning  to  arrive,  he  found  the 
little  man  curled  up  upon  the  hearth  rug,  telling  a  story 
of  the  woods  —  one  of  the  stories  that  he  loved  so  much 
to  tell  —  while  the  girl  lay  back  in  her  chair,  softly 
stroking  the  gray  head  of  the  old  man  who  sat  beside 
her.  It  made  a  pretty  picture,  the  three  of  them  sit 
ting  in  the  firelight,  and  Carey  was  loath  to  disturb  it, 
but  the  little  man  caught  sight  of  him  and  scrambled 
to  his  feet  with  a  word  of  warning.  The  old  man  rose 
also,  and  the  two  of  them  stood  for  a  moment  in 
awkward  silence,  awed  at  the  handsomely  furnished 
room,  at  the  voices  and  laughter  that  came  from  the 
hall,  at  the  quiet  dignity  of  the  big  house,  for  the  charm 
of  their  simple  talk  was  broken,  and  they  were  afraid. 

486 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

Carey  came  over  to  them  and  laid  his  hands  upon 
their  shoulders  kindly. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  two  for  all  that 
you  have  done  for  Aline,"  said  he  huskily.  "  As  long 
as  there  is  a  Belrive  you  shall  have  a  home  and  the 
choice  of  all  the  cabins  is  yours.  You  shall  work  only 
when  you  wish,  and  Aline  will  look  after  you,  as  you 
looked  after  her  in  the  days  of  her  poverty,  will  you 
not,  Aline?" 

There  were  tears  in  the  girl's  eyes  when  she  answered 
him,  and  she  beckoned  for  the  old  man  and  Le  Bossu 
to  come  to  her. 

"  You  will  see  me  every  day,"  said  she,  "  and  I  shall 
live  only  to  make  you  happy.  You  will  live  in  our  old 
cabin,  will  you  not,  Uncle  Telesse?" 

But  the  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"  We  have  spoken  of  this  thing,  Jean  and  I,  and  we 
are  going  back  to  the  woods,"  answered  he.  "  It  would 
not  be  the  same  at  the  cabin  without  you,  Aline,  and 
you  know  that  I  only  came  to  Belrive  that  you  might 
go  to  school.  We  will  come  to  see  you  often,  Jean  and 
I,  and  in  the  days  to  come  perhaps  Le  Bossu  will  tell  to 
your  children  the  stories  that  in  the  forest  you  loved 
so  much  to  hear.  We  have  lived  all  our  lives  in  the 
woods,  and  it  is  there  that  we  would  die.  M'sieu  Gor 
don  is  kind,  very  kind,  and  I  thank  him,  but  we  will  go 
to  the  woods — to  our  old  home." 

Aline  smiled.  "  Yes,  you  are  right,  Uncle  Telesse," 
said  she.  "  It  is  only  in  the  woods  that  you  will  be 
happy,  and  I  will  come  to  see  you  often,  for  I  love  them 
even  as  do  you  and  Jean." 

487 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

She  looked  after  them  with  fond  eyes  as  Carey 
slipped  them  through  the  folding  doors  into  the  dining 
room,  and  then  the  guests  came  in  from  the  hall  in  a 
laughing,  talking  throng.  In  they  came,  headed  by 
Aunt  Betty,  the  jolliest  of  them  all — the  family  from 
Sunnyside,  Monsieur  Landry,  Mr.  Parker,  the  old 
doctor,  and  Father  Bertrand — all  of  them  with  a  word 
of  greeting  and  good  cheer  for  the  girl  that  sat  in  the 
big  armchair  before  the  fire. 

And  when  they  had  all  of  them  spoken  to  Aline 
Tom  Bayne  slipped  over  to  her  side  and  whispered  in 
her  ear.  The  girl  smiled,  and  looked  at  him  reas 
suringly. 

"  She  is  with  my  cousin,  Julia  Lawrence,  and  you 
must  tell  Julia  that  I  wish  to  see  her  at  once,"  said  she. 
"  You  will  find  them  in  the  dining-room." 

Tom  Bayne  quickly  gave  her  a  look  of  the  deepest 
gratitude. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  whispered  defiantly.  "  I'll  do  it 
to-night  or  die."  And  turning  away  he  hurried  from 
the  room,  almost  overturning  Monsieur  Landry,  who 
had  just  succeeded  in  cornering  Aunt  Betty. 

Monsieur  Landry  gazed  after  the  departing  figure 
in  ruffled  astonishment. 

"  Monsieur  Bayne  is  in  a  hurry  all  of  a  sudden," 
said  he. 

The  muffled  slam  of  a  door  came  from  the  dining 
room,  and  Aunt  Betty  laughed,  for  her  quick  ears  had 
caught  the  sound. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  were  on  his  errand  you  would  be 
in  a  hurry  also,"  replied  she. 

488 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

"And  what  may  his  errand  be?"  asked  Monsieur 
Landry  curiously. 

Aunt  Betty  laughed  again  and  pointed  to  Mr.  Par 
ker,  who  was  making  his  way  toward  them. 

"  Perhaps  our  friend  here  can  tell  you,"  she  an 
swered.  "  He  has  been  on  a  similar  errand  for  some 


time." 


Mr.  Parker  joined  them,  his  red  face  beaming. 

"  I  suppose  that  Mr.  Landry  has  told  you  that  our 
candidate  was  elected  by  an  overwhelming  majority, 
and  that  Paul  Hebert  is  again  the  sheriff  at  Mouton?  " 
said  he. 

Aunt  Betty  nodded. 

"  Monsieur  Landry  has  made  his  report,  and  it  has 
been  a  most  satisfactory  one,"  she  replied.  "  We  would 
now  like  to  hear  from  you.  I  am  waiting  for  the  news 
from  Mouton,  Mr.  Parker." 

Mr.  Parker's  red  face  became  suddenly  grave. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  my  report  is  not  as  satisfactory  a 
one  as  Mr.  Landry's,"  said  he.  "  She  is  going  to 
marry  a  drummer  from  New  Orleans,  Miss  Betty,  and 
she  told  me  that  she  had  been  in  love  with  him  all  the 


time." 


He  paused  and  his  face  took  on  a  look  of  comical 
despair. 

Aunt  Betty  looked  at  him  quizzically  for  a  moment, 
and  then  she  suddenly  nodded  her  head,  as  though  she 
had  made  up  her  mind. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  say  that  I  have  made  a  mistake, 
Mr.  Parker,"  said  she,  "  for  it  is  always  a  woman's 
privilege  to  change  her  mind.  So  therefore  without  any 

489 


ALINE    OF    THE    GRAND    WOODS 

preliminaries  I  am  going  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  think 
that  the  Lord  ever  intended  you  to  marry,  after  all." 

Mr.  Parker's  face  brightened  instantly. 

"  By  Gad!  Miss  Betty,  you  never  said  a  truer  thing 
in  your  life,"  he  cried,  "  for  if  He  had  intended  me  for 
matrimony  I  would  have  been  married  long  ago." 

"  Of  course  you  would,"  answered  Aunt  Betty,  "  and 
now  if  you  will  excuse  me  I  will  go  out  and  see  how 
dinner  is  coming  on." 

It  was  a  noteworthy  fact  that  Aunt  Betty,  who 
moved  about  very  quietly,  made  a  great  deal  of  unneces 
sary  noise  as  she  went  down  the  hall,  and  when,  after 
rattling  the  doorknob,  she  went  into  the  dining-room, 
she  found  Tom  Bayne  and  Marjorie  sitting  very  far 
apart  at  the  long  table  in  a  state  of  blissful  confusion. 

Tom  was  very  flushed  and  proud  as  he  led  Marjorie 
over  to  her,  and  he  had  to  clear  his  throat  violently 
once  or  twice  before  he  could  speak. 

"  I  have  been  to  the  seashore,  Aunt  Betty,"  said  he, 
"  and  Margey  says  that  I  can  stay  and " 

"  And  dinner  has  been  ready  for  some  time,  only 
Tom  wouldn't  let  them  come  in  to  announce  it,"  Mar 
jorie  finished  for  him,  blushing  furiously. 

Aunt  Betty's  eyes  were  dim  with  tears  and  her  voice 
actually  trembled  when  she  answered  them. 

"  I  ought  to  give  you  both  a  good  scolding,"  said 
she,  "  but  instead  I  am  going  to  give  you  each  a  kiss,  and 
then  I  am  going  to  throw  open  the  doors  and  call  them 
in  to  dinner  before  I  become  an  utter  idiot  with  all  this 
happiness  and  cry  like  an  old  fool." 

And  then  she  kissed  them  both,  and  the  guests  filed 

490 


CHRISTMAS    CHEER 

in  to  dinner,  leaving  Aline  alone  at  the  fire,  for  she  was 
weary  after  her  long  day. 

And  so  she  sat  in  the  firelight,  thinking  of  the  happi 
ness  that  was  to  come,  and  presently  she  fell  asleep  with 
a  smile  upon  her  lips,  for  she  was  very  tired.  And  as 
she  slept  the  door  opened  softly  and  the  old  man  slipped 
into  the  room,  followed  by  Le  Bossu. 

For  a  moment  they  gazed  at  her  with  loving  eyes, 
and  then  they  crept  out  again  as  softly  as  they  had 
come. 

Never  a  word  did  they  speak  until  they  were  outside 
in  the  dark,  and  then  the  little  man  broke  the  silence 
with  a  sigh  of  wonder. 

"  And  to  think  that  she  was  a  great  lady,  and  we 
never  knew,  Telesse,"  said  he.  "  We  should  be  happy 
at  the  happiness  that  has  come  to  her." 

The  old  man  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  we  should  be  happy,  Jean,"  he  replied.  "  I 
am  happy,  and  yet " 

There  was  a  catch  in  his  voice  and  he  paused  for  a 
moment  to  look  at  the  big  house  before  him — the  big 
house  with  its  many  lights  and  its  sounds  of  happy 
voices  and  laughter. 

For  a  long  time  he  gazed  at  it  in  silence,  and  then 
he  turned  with  a  little  sob  and  laid  his  hand  upon  Le 
Bossu's  shoulder. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "  let  us  go  back  to  the  woods, 
Jean,  you  and  I." 

THE    END 


491 


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